


A Veil of Smoke

by raindropwaltz



Series: A Song of Stars and Shadow [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017)
Genre: Complete, Crossover, F/M, Game of Thrones AU, Gen, Multi, Other, and i wasn't risking those odds, asoiaf au, come on in and watch me try to blend game of thrones with game of thrones in space, do i have to tag all the characters with their house names in this holy fuck, everyone isn't a secret targaryen, if i'd kept brienne in this it could have been awkward or hot, now with even more burning, the slow kind, this that au yall all knew was coming one day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-13 11:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13569240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raindropwaltz/pseuds/raindropwaltz
Summary: A monster on the Iron Throne, a foreign Hand of the King, a growing army of slaves backing the new tyrant.The dragons have fled, and the last of the wolves leads a pack of trouts, falcons, stags, snakes and lions wreathed in golden roses.Shadows bathed in cold whisper of usurpers and the Long Night, and far to the east, a girl guided by the stars is befriended by fire...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovelydarkanddeep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelydarkanddeep/gifts).



> for Maki & Ara, who cheered me on and goaded my butt into doing this AU. love yall <3

“Is that _all_ of them,” Captain Phasma’s rolling purr of a voice could be heard over the wailing and the shouting as she rode up, and addressed the Hand astride his horse. Hux curled his lip slightly and wrinkled his thin nose in disdain.

“It will be enough. Make sure they’re on the ships by sundown.” He shifted slightly in his saddle, taking a brief glance around at the filthy townspeople gathered, mothers grasping for their children as soldiers beat them back. The children were small, some barely of walking age, not only boys but the girlchildren as well. They sobbed and tried to flee, but it was no use. Hux cast a disgusted gaze upon it all and spurred his horse away from the scene. “And Phasma,” he added with a sniff, “See that these people understand their duty. Make an example, if necessary.”

 

The Kingsroad was near empty in this part of the Crownlands, save for the Hand and his small party as they rode south past Rosby. Dark was falling by the time they reached the keep of one of the old families to host them for the night.  
Hux was not overly fond of the Stokeworths--but they were useful for information or getting work done. The small party passed under their flag-ridden gates and the already-weary Hand of the King heaved a slight sigh as they were immediately received. A night, and then back to King’s Landing. He’d send a raven with his figures and calculations tonight, and ride out again in the morning.

Dinner was, as Hux assumed it would be, an ordeal. Too much chatter, and far too much noise besides. The food was acceptable, but the company did sour things. Even the wine wasn't to his taste--the Westerosi had their vintages, but this he knew to be hippocras, and the Yunkai'i lord was not overly fond of the heavy flavors and the odd thick taste, only accented by the fact it was served heated. He sipped it but slowly and sparingly, which did nothing but amplify his displeasure with the situation.  
Then, something interesting.  
“...Those ridiculous riders--they’re calling themselves simply the ‘Resistance’; but by all accounts they seem to be nothing but vandals and brutes!” The lady of the house turned to Hux with a simpering smile, “Of course, you’ll have heard all about that by now…” In fact he had heard some, this ‘Resistance’ was riding throughout the Seven Kingdoms by now, down as far south as Dorne and as far to the north as the Wall. He would do far worse than send their lot to take the Black if he caught any of them. For the time, he took a drink of wine and let his brow rise slightly.  
“Of course,” he responded simply, “But as you well know, Lady Stokeworth, any information is of great use to the crown.”  
“Oh yes of course!” Came her hurried reply, “House Stokeworth has _always_ been loyal, my lord Hand, since the--”  
“--Time of the Conquest, yes, even a foreigner like myself is quite aware of your history, my lady.” This seemed to dampen her vigor slightly, and she faltered a moment.  
“Yes of course. I’m afraid information on these _outlaws_ is terribly hard to come by, they’ve done nothing but raid traveling parties and there is word that they’re being backed privately by the Starks--” Hux’s goblet hit the table a bit harder than expected.  
“The Starks are all but extinct. Leia is but lucky to be alive, and that allowance is tenuous, moreso should she leave the North and Winterfell again.” Lady Stokeworth took a nervous sip of wine and offered a slight nod of assent.  
“Quite right, my lord Hand…” Hux disregarded her after that. There were always whispers of things coming from the North, but if Leia Stark was half the woman he thought she was, she wouldn’t be so stupid as to back this ‘Resistance’ outright.

Dinner passed in silence.

 

That night, Hux was presented with guest chambers and sent for ink, parchment, quill, and wine. He penned a letter to King’s Landing as he drank, not particularly looking forward to being back in the Keep to deal with Ren and his ridiculous band of ‘knights’. The King humored that boy too much, and it had made him unstable--even more than he was before. _Targaryen blood_ , Hux sniffed to himself, even in Yunkai they spoke of the Targaryens of Old Valyria and the madness that plagued their line. But the dragons were gone, and the Targaryens had essentially died with them. The resurgence of Anakin I Targaryen and his ascension to the throne was raved about in history books now, even Hux knew the stories there. Still. There were no more dragons, and the Targaryens held no real power any longer. King Snoke would usher in a new era with the establishment of the First Order, and with Hux as his Hand of the King, his reach had already extended to the Masters of Yunkai and Meereen.

Hux scratched more figures to parchment, one sheet to be rolled up, sealed, and sent by raven to King’s Landing. A second sheet was for his personal ledger. The numbers were slowly decreasing, he noted, certainly with today’s shipment taken into consideration. Hux sighed heavily, taking a long drink. They had been showing the smallfolk some mercy by visiting one town each month--but there were no longer enough children being produced. Hux’s brow furrowed slightly as he went over the figures once more before sealing the folded parchment.

The castle was quiet in the late hours, and the Hand’s trip to the rookery was a peaceful one. Sealed ledger in hand, Hux made his way up to the maester’s tower to send a raven, but as he passed by a set of small windows his attention was drawn suddenly to torches gathering in the yard below. Riders--he saw two from his place on the stairs, clearly filthy and in disarray, but clad in the pale armor of the Order’s soldiers. His eyes narrowed as he watched a moment longer, and then turned around in his path away from the ravenry.

Sure enough, he was met on his stroll by one of the soldiers, flanked by two of House Stokeworth’s guards.  
“My lord Hand, riders in the night. They claim to have a message for you, my lord,” One of the guards glanced at the Order soldier, and Hux quirked a brow slightly, looking at them expectantly.  
“Well?” The soldier coughed quietly, shaking their head, still in white helm--though now all of the pale armor was crusted with mud and blood and some mix there between.  
“Am-ambush, my lord--at the docks--” the garbled voice came, muffled by the helmet, laboriously breathing.  
“Ambush? Explain.”  
“They--they came in from the north, rode us down to the shore, burned two of the ships before they could sail--”  
“Two of the ships? And the third?” Hux demanded, but the soldier shook their head.  
“Sailed out into the Blackwater. Her sail was ablaze, my lord, but we did not see her sink.” the Hand let out a long, low breath. Two ships destroyed, and a third yet unaccounted for. His voice was terse,  
“And the cargo?” A wet cough from under the helmet before the hesitant reply.  
“Lost, my lord Hand.”

Hux’s gloved fingers constricted around each other, the parchment he’d been holding crumpling under his harsh grasp, and there was silence in the hall for a long moment before the Hand spoke again.  
“Find Captain Phasma. Inform her that I want the village made example of by dawn.” A pause, and then Hux’s pale eyes turned frigid as they fixed on the soldier. “Was I unclear?”  
The First Order soldier went to attention immediately, giving the pale man in front of them a hurried bow.  
“No, my lord Hand.” Hux finalized his crumpling of the parchment in his hands and ran his tongue over his teeth briefly before taking a breath and turning towards his rooms again.  
“And do tell the captain I expect to hear word of this tomorrow.”  


Dawn broke through the haze of smoke and lingering fire. Horses whinnied in the wreckage of buildings and carts, struggling to free themselves, and bodies were strewn about in the dirt and soot and debris that was previously a village just north of Rosby. Riders had gone after anyone trying to flee, already having ridden down more than one villager into the woods and fields beyond, but the majority had died still in the confines of the blazing village center. The villagers had been outmatched, most of them aging or women, and farmers who could hardly defend themselves against the First Order's Unsullied soldiers. The better number of them had died where they stood, now charred and bloodied in the mud, but some still gasped and groaned and pleaded for death, bleeding out too slowly.

Captain Phasma sat in her gleaming armor astride her horse, watching the smoke continue to rise into the morning. A soldier approached, facing the charred scene with her briefly.  
“Orders, Captain?”  
“Leave it. Let the crows break their fast here. On to the Kingsroad again.”  
“Yes, Captain.”


	2. Kylo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kylo and the Knights of Ren are sent east.

Day was bright and clear when the party rode into the capitol again, dark horses carrying dark riders through the streets and up to the Red Keep. Eight riders, the tallest at their lead astride a great black beast of a horse, the group all in helm and cloak of black-and-silver unmarked by sigil or crest, dark steel gleaming in the sun. The smallfolk gave them berth, fearing horse and rider alike, averting their gazes as they passed. The Knights of Ren rode, and a hush followed.

Boots clicked on stone floors as the knights made their way to the throne room. Courtiers hushed and maids bowed and ducked back as the group of them strode through. Kylo was their leader; dark and tall and fearsome he stood, near to six and a half feet if not more. Dark helmet hid his face just as the other knights concealed their own, and his voice came low and deep when he spoke, if young to the ear. The other knights were no less frightful in their dark armor and dark cloaks. They were shorter than their leader, most by near to a head, the tallest of them still smaller by almost half a foot. The lot of them weren’t near as broad as the one called Kylo Ren, either.

The doors of the throne room opened, admitting the group, and Kylo could hear the voice he knew to be the Hand of the King.  
“...to the west, to the north--and I am hearing now that it is suspected the Stark bitch is behind this all--” Hux was standing at the foot of the great hulking thing that was the Iron Throne, in his usual dark silk-and-linen, in greys and deep blues. He looked more pale in the dim light; white-skinned and pale-eyed, with ginger hair that he kept cropped short and perfectly in place at all times. Hux wore no symbol of his house on his clothing, not as the Westerosi were prone to do, but Kylo Ren could see the gleaming harpy on the signet ring he wore, the gold catching the torchlight in the dim room as he moved. Kylo Ren did not particularly care for the Yunkai’i, but he was fiercely loyal, and the King insisted they needed what he brought to their claim. As the knights strode towards the Iron Throne, Kylo’s eyes briefly roved over the lines of soldiers called the ‘Unsullied’ in Essos--here, they were called ‘Stormtroopers’. Thousands of them, raised from birth to do nothing but fight for whoever they served. Kylo Ren did not particularly care for that, either.

Hux retreated only a step as Kylo Ren stood at the foot of the throne, taking a knee in deference to the figure on the throne. The massive structure was just as mangled in appearance as its current master. Snoke was a gnarled, pallid, frightening figure, perhaps more so while seated on the Iron Throne. A tall, spindly man in cloth-of-gold robes, a thick, heavy crown sat atop a heavily scarred and bald head. Terrible things had happened to this creature at some point, though none could be certain of just what, and when. Nor, Kylo thought from time to time, could anyone quite be certain of the man’s age. There were days he seemed ancient and decrepit, and others he seemed nearly youthful in his movements and sound. Not to mention, he’d hardly seemed to age a day in the years Kylo Ren had known him now. It had been near a decade since he’d met the strange man beyond the Wall, as north as north could be. That was far and away now.  
“Kylo Ren…” the strange man let the words roll out in a voice almost like a growl, “What word do you bring me from Dorne?” Still prostrated, the knight kept his head bowed.  
“The Dornish are, as ever, willful and bent on independence, your grace,” he gritted out, reminded of his failure with the current Martell ruler. He knew what this meant, what failure always meant. The room was silent for a moment, and then a low, quiet response.  
“Explain.”  
“We met with Lord Kes, and I believe his exact words were ‘Queen Leia was the last legitimate ruler, and Dorne will not submit to a foreign demon.’” Which was, still, heavily paraphrased--however no one present that knew better would have spoken up to correct him.

The room was silent for an uncomfortably long moment until Snoke, seated high over them, finally spoke again.  
“I see…” Hux was the one to speak out then, stepping forward slightly and raising his voice.  
“If they will not submit to a foreign ruler then we will ensure they will kneel for his army--if we march on Sunspear then we can easily overtake them, your grace!” Under his helm, Kylo Ren’s eyes flicked to the pale man standing there. Marching on Sunspear would take far too long by land, and should they try by sea they would be sailing up past Storm’s End; if the Baratheons were any the wiser of their passing that could mean a battle, and even more time spent, not to mention soldiers lost. Still, he waited for the King’s official answer.  
“The Dornish are hardly such a concern, for now. If they will not bend the knee then they will no longer be treated with open hand. Cut off all trade between Dorne and the crown. Their ships will not make harbor here, their traders will not be allowed passage on our roads. Anyone caught trading with their people will be labeled traitors to the crown.”  Hux looked somewhat visibly chastened, but offered a bow rather than dispute the order.  
“It will be done, your grace.” Kylo Ren and the Knights at his back watched the Hand of the King exit, boot heels clicking on the stone floors as he went. Once the great doors were closed again, the chamber was silent.

“I have seen a vision in the smoke, Kylo Ren,” came the low and rumbling voice. The dark-clad knight looked up, listening quietly. “There is something coming.” Silence. No one present moved, until finally Kylo Ren raised his head.  
“The ‘light’ again, your grace?” The creature seated above him narrowed his beady eyes, fingers curling tighter around the blades that formed the arms of the throne.  
“It comes from the east--rises ever higher like the sun. If it climbs higher it will blind the world, and you, my knight of the shadows, you will be destroyed. This light is your doom, unless we snuff it out!” Kylo felt himself go cold, saw the blood begin to show where Snoke’s hands were being sliced through by the throne, but the ancient creature paid it no mind. Kylo Ren’s fingers clenched in his leather gloves, and he bowed his head once again. “There are no gods, there are only light and darkness. If one overtakes the other, it will be the end.” Snoke settles back in the seat of the throne, narrowed eye still fixed on Kylo Ren. “The light rises higher. The snows fall heavier in the north--the light is calling darkness to it, and now winter comes again. This will be another Long Night, one that will mean destruction for this land, just as the last did. But, if you can snuff out this intense light, then the darkness will fall easier. The people will know you were their savior in the summers to come, Kylo Ren.”

  


That night, sleep did not come easily.  
The rest of the knights were long since gone to take advantage of their brief rest here. Their leader sat in his room, silent in the dim darkness. The Red Keep hardly felt like home to him; the walls felt confining, though they seemed far too thin, and heavy with ghosts. He was relieved they would be leaving again soon. This place was not his to be.  
In the privacy of his own rooms, the helmet was gone, as were the thick layers of dark he wore so constantly. Removing it all should have made him feel less a creature, and yet...in this castle, he only felt like a monster.

This room was not his. He could remember these particular rooms--guest chambers, at the time. He’d chosen them for that reason. From time to time, he could look around, and hear laughter, footsteps. Children at play. _“Let’s see how far we can see from the window! I’ll bet if we jumped down, we could scare old Maester Tekka!” “Poe, we’ll get in trouble!”_ None of it was real, not anymore. The shouts had died away, and the footfalls were long gone. These were the kindest of the ghosts here, and he had chosen them over what lay waiting elsewhere in the stone walls of the Red Keep.

Dorne had been a failure. The Martells had always been of tenuous loyalty to the crown, even Aegon himself could not bring them into the fold, and had lost his sister and her dragon trying. The Targaryens had tried, over the years, but in the end it had only been marriage that had secured an alliance with the southernmost kingdom, and that was an option they did not have any longer. There were no royal princesses to wed to the Martell’s son, and their next option was his cousin, Jessika. Kylo Ren had met that woman but once, and then seen her again this trip to Dorne; any man that found himself wed to her was brave indeed, though it was said she’d sooner marry her horse than any lord. Kylo had heard that rumor long before now, and he could remember laughing with her cousin the day they’d been told. That had been in the halls of Sunspear, almost a decade ago.

Now, it was her uncle Kes that ruled, with his wife Shara. Their own cousin had been Queen Padmé’s father, and she had come from Sunspear to King’s Landing when she’d married the Targaryen prince, Anakin. She had died, they said in childbirth, but rumors flew as they always would that her husband had killed her in a fit of rage--since her death, Dorne had held great hostility towards the crown and its hold on them; Padmé had been very much beloved by their people and her family in Sunspear.  
Her daughter, Leia, had been spirited away to be raised by the Starks to keep her safe, and years later it had been Leia and her previously unknown twin brother Lucerys that had brought down their tyrant king father, and Leia had been the one to sit the Iron Throne, with her husband. Kylo Ren knew the history well: the Targaryen-Stark princess had fallen in love with a Baratheon bastard and pirate, who had ultimately helped she and her brother win back the crown. Harwin Storm, called ‘Han’ by those who knew him best, had risen up to become King of the Seven Kingdoms. The two of them had lived in this Keep together, had born a son and kept a harmonious peace between the Westerosi kingdoms for years.

And now the King was dead, and the queen was in hiding high in Winterfell, all but imprisoned there in her near-destroyed childhood home.

Her twin, Lucerys--called ‘Luke’, he knew--had disappeared; he’d taken the black and vowed to train the Night’s Watch as best he could, after both twins had apparently had visions of an oncoming brutal winter and something dark and colder than ice coming with it. The Queen had sent her only son to see the Wall, to train with his uncle, but it had been said that the young boy had disappeared beyond the wall, and died. Whatever the case, Luke Targaryen had deserted the Night’s Watch after, and hadn’t been seen in years. Likely the old man was dead now himself.  
Rumors were only that: rumors. No one knew the truth behind any of it, and even if they did, who would be any the wiser? Everything sounded fantastic and plausible when whispered over drink, and from time to time the truth was no more exciting than anything else.

Whatever had happened beyond the Wall, in the south, the King had been slain, the Queen had fled the capitol, and a foreign invader sat the Iron Throne now. That day had been like any other, he recalled, but there had still been sunlight in the throne room. The glass windows had still shown the seven-pointed star, rather than the deep red sun of the new ruling regime. The room had been bright, if quiet.  
He could remember the face of the king. Han had stood at the foot of the great throne and offered his open hands.  
Kylo Ren had taken his heart.

On his bed now, the knight’s hands curled into loose fists, and his eyes trailed over to his sword, laid out nearby and glinting in the slants of moonlight allowed into the room. It was silver, now, but when it had run through the heart of the king, it had burned red. Red, until it was all Kylo could see. Red in his hands, red in the king’s eyes, red running to the stone floor. Now, the throne room was bathed in red--whether as some reminder of that day or simply to please Snoke, Kylo couldn’t be sure.  
He could have taken the throne that day. Could have climbed the twisted iron steps and sat the great seat himself, taken the crown, and styled himself king. But he had not.  
Whether it was a lack of judgement, whether he had not wanted it, whether it was fear...he could not say. But Snoke had come into the room flanked by the Knights of Ren, and Kylo, Master of the Knights of Ren, had bent the knee.

He did not find sleep until the late hours of the night. When dawn broke, the sun found him already dressed, helmet firmly in place, hood over his head, already astride his horse and riding out into the Kingswood, sword at his side. At least in the forest, he could outride and strike down his ghosts.

 

Three days later, and none too soon, Kylo and the Knights of Ren, clad in black and weapons at their backs, had few belongings and their horses led onto a ship bound for Pentos. The trip would not be the longest they had taken by sea, but from Pentos they would be riding out into the midlands of Essos, ruled by the Dothraki. Snoke had commanded them to go east--and so they would.  
“Ride into the Dothraki Sea for Qarth. You’ll find the House of the Undying there, and perhaps more answers as to what we seek. He is there, somewhere. Your enemy, the light. If we find him, we can destroy it.”  
The words echoed in his head through the trip. The sea was not his favorite place, but they would reach Pentos before long.

“So then we’re looking for Luke Targaryen on Essos.” The ship wasn’t crowded, but the Knights kept their blacksteel helmets in place all the same. Kylo Ren took a deep breath, staring out at the calm water as they sailed. It had been near to three days at sea now, and the knights had stopped singing with the ship’s crew long enough to start asking questions.  
“We’re riding for Qarth,” he replied, but another of the knights spoke up now.  
“He could be _anywhere_. Why Qarth?”  
“The king wants information from the House of the Undying.” His tone was firm, but the others spoke amongst themselves more than to him.  
“Bunch of wizards there,” one of them warned the others as they adjusted their woven cloak, “Heard they drink poison to keep themselves from dying and look like wights.” Kylo Ren’s eyes flicked to the group now, but they continued.  
“Rather they look like the Others,” one snorted, but another just laughed derisively.  
“You’d never leave if they were that pretty, Mell!” The group laughed.  
“You’ve never even seen one of the walkers--how d’you know anyways?”  
“My mum swore she saw them once, the winter that took dad and Garet. Said they were pale and white and beautiful, she thought they was made of ice.”  
“Your mum’s a dirty liar ‘Teria, they’d’ve killed her if they saw her!” An argument broke out then, until Kylo Ren spoke up, his voice loud enough to drown out the others and silence them.  
“No more fairy stories. The Others are stories wetnurses tell children to keep them behaving.” One of the knights fixed their gaze on him through their helm, however.  
“You think so, Kylo?” The tone was knowing, however. “You’ve not been true north. You’ve not seen the top of the world. Lotta things you southerners say’s not real, only because none’ve you lot have ever been north to see them!” There was a murmur of agreement, and Kylo Ren’s eyes narrowed slightly under his helmet.  
“As you like, Nuaala. Keep your children’s tales. It isn’t ‘White Walkers’ we’re facing in Essos.”

One of the knights nodded.  
“Oh no, not so bad as them. Just them Dothraki screamers--”  
“Oh I _bet_ they’re screamers--”  
“Don’t be crass, Krytha!” The lot of them laughed. Krytha laughed hardest.  
“If not me, then who else would make you cunts laugh? I want to see these Dothraki; hear they’re big as giants and ride horses the size of bears!”  
“They’re called the horse lords, they ride everywhere in huge groups.” Kylo Ren sighed a bit to himself, interjecting again.  
“They ride in units called ‘khalasars’. Mostly they stay on the grass plains. They’re a barbaric people; we’ll be lucky if we don’t have to deal with them.”  
“Afraid of the horse-screamers, Kylo?” the knights laughed, but Kylo Ren did not.  
“If you fight with one, you fight with them all. The khals, the kos that serve them. We have a very long way to go, and then a long way to King’s Landing again. Killing an entire khalasar would take far too much time.” The group of them let out a pleased roar at this response, but Kylo Ren left them when they began chattering again.

He had not been to Pentos since he was a child, and then it had only been for a few days. He did not know the city, and was not certain he trusted the Pentoshi they’d been told to meet with to arrange their travels to Qarth. Illyrio Mopatis was not a man many considered ‘trustworthy’ by any stretch, but he was their means of supplies and information across the Narrow Sea--both of which they needed before they headed out into the rest of the continent. The Spider was the one who had arranged this, which Kylo supposed was the reason for the majority of his concerns; Varys was even less trustworthy than Hux, which didn’t put him high in Kylo Ren’s opinion, but he was useful. For his sake, Magister Illyrio would be useful as well.

  


They could see Pentos at sunset of the fourth day at sea. It glittered in the distance, ruddy and red with fires reflecting off of the stone buildings. The knights watched it slowly come closer as they sailed ahead.  
“The red priests,” Nuaala’s voice comes from beside Kylo Ren, “Burning fires for their Lord of Light.” It sends a shiver up Kylo Ren’s spine, but watching the fires dance as they draw closer is mesmerizing. The knights murmur with each other about the city, and Nuaala goes to join them, leaving Kylo alone to watch the flames along the coastline of the city and beyond.

 _“The light is your doom,”_ Snoke warned him, but the fire seemed to promise something very different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is gonna be a POV thing.  
> listen it's not a proper ASOIAF!AU unless i commit and that means POV chapters  
> grrm makes this look so easy, what the hell.
> 
> if any of you are familiar with my other fic, bond, you might recognize a few of those names c; slightly different crew of knights this time, though...


	3. Poe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Resistance must plan.

The news reached Winterfell with the Resistance riders on its heels. An entire village destroyed. A ruin of bodies and ash, nothing but crow calls and soot when the smoke cleared.

 

Leia Stark was a stately woman, now in the years of graying hair, but no less formidable than she’d ever been. Poe Martell faced her down in the study of the castle when he and the other riders arrived, still rosy-cheeked from the ride and windswept as he tore off his black hood and strode to meet the Lady Stark at her old desk. She had parchment in her hands, and a dark look on her face even as she raised her deep brown eyes to his.

She was still lovely, even now. The years had given her weight, added lines to her face and streaks of silvery gray to her dark brown hair, but it was still clear to all that she had been a great beauty in her youth, and had carried that grace and loveliness until it had matured with her. She looked every bit a queen, even here, even now. Now, her long hair was braided up around her head as if it were a circlet of bronze spun with silver threads. She wore no crown, but the northerners bowed all the same, her allies bent the knee, and she commanded the same respect and loyalty as she ever had. 

Her clothing remained black. Five years had passed since her husband’s death, since her flight here from King’s Landing with what support she still had. The ‘First Order’ had allowed her to live only because of the power her name held--killing Lady Leia of House Stark, blood of the old Targaryen kings, daughter of Anakin I Targaryen, called The Rebel Queen and Leia the Bold, would have been a foolhardy move. Even the foreign usurpers knew that much.   
Today, she looked across her great desk at Poe with a heaviness in her eyes, even as he crossed the room all smiles and boasts.   
“If you’d been there, Leia, if you’d seen all of it--the children as they ran, those guards, it was  _ justice _ . They cheered, Leia, they cheered and some of them hugged us, our horses--”   
“They’re all dead,” she stated quietly, setting the parchment down on the table, sliding it across the old wooden surface to him. Poe’s breath died in his throat.   
“What?”   
“They’re dead. All of them. The villagers in Tuanul. The children you saved. Everyone.” Leia settled back in her chair, watching as the Martell lord picked up the note with a blank expression on his face, grasp light in his disbelief.   
“‘ _Tuanul is gone, all dead. The earth is razed and the crows are bloated,_ ’” Poe read, his voice lowering as he finished until it was gone away. He let the paper fall back to the desk, shaking his head slowly. “They went back? They went back.” He answered himself, dumbstruck. “They rode back in the night. They must have.” Leia shook her head in dismay.   
“It makes no matter when it took place, but that it did,” she sighed, “And now their blood is on our hands.” Poe looked stunned, and then angry.   
“Our hands? The Order’s troops are the ones who did this, not our men! It was First Order flames that took that village, First Order swords that bit the villagers! Not ours!” He slammed his hands onto her desk, and Leia did not flinch, but met his heated gaze with one of stone.

“And yet because of our actions they are all dead.”   
“Because of  _ the First Order _ ’ _ s _ actions!” Poe thundered at her in disbelief. Leia did not so much as blink.   
“And why did they take those actions? You think that was simply at random?” She challenged the man across from her, “Do you think they merely made such a devastating decision on spur of whim?” She shook her head slowly. “No. They struck at us by striking at those we aided. We saved village children and left their homes unprotected.” Poe looked as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing, and in a way he could not.   
“How can you say that?”   
“With much less ease than it may appear.” 

Poe ran a hand over the lower half of his face, the rake of fresh hair rumbling against his leather riding glove.   
“So then we cannot protect anyone that allies themselves with us?” He leaned forward over the desk, staring the Lady of Winterfell down. “We simply let the Order rule, and the smallfolk suffer?” Leia was quiet for a moment before taking a small breath.   
“When I was a child, my father, the Lord Stark who raised me, asked me: ‘Do you see the smallfolk here, in the north, who work the fields and who live in the villages?’ I told him yes, I did. He said, ‘We are their protection against the threats far greater than man can withstand alone. Famine, fire, plague, winter.’ I asked him, what about war? What about raiders, wildlings, animals? Couldn’t we protect them from those things, as well?” Poe leaned back away from the table, standing straight and turning away from her as he listened. Leia stayed her seat. “He told me, ‘That is part of our duty to them as well. Our strength is mirrored by the strength of our people. Do you know what that means,’ he asked me. ‘It means that we strengthen ourselves by strengthening our people. The north is strong because her people are strong. Our villages are safe because the northerners know how to fight, how to defend their land and their families. We know how to survive. The north is harsh, and winter is coming.’” Poe exhaled a long, slow breath, turning to look at the older woman again.   
“So you are suggesting we teach the smallfolk to fight?” He sounded somewhat skeptical, but Leia only offered a small smile.

“I am suggesting we send arms to those in need. Perhaps if they have swords to swing, they will feel more inclined to do so, should trouble come to their doors.”

Poe opened his mouth to speak in response, but the door was nudged open just then, and an enormous wolf tread into the room, brushing past him without care. He watched the great beast cross to where Leia sat and nudge her arm gently with its nose until she rubbed its shaggy head.   
“There you are, Amidala,” Leia greeted the creature softly, smiling and scratching the direwolf’s ears, “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to…” Poe watched quietly, taking a silent, small breath. Amidala was Leia’s direwolf--one of the last, an enormous creature with deep oak-brown fur and yellow eyes. Amidala was now near the size of a pony; were Leia so inclined, she could have used the direwolf as a mount. Poe knew little of how Leia had come to possess the direwolf, since the creatures had been thought to be extinct for decades now, but the Resistance as a whole knew Amidala to be a friendly creature to any of Leia’s allies. The forests around Winterfell had been affectionately called ‘Amidala’s Woods’ since the she-wolf was so frequently seen hunting in the dense trees.

Leia rubbed the direwolf’s head lovingly, pressing her forehead to Amidala’s furred crown, rubbing her ears until the she-wolf started panting, her tail wagging slowly behind her. Poe sighed softly, smiling a little to himself. The wolf was one of the few sources of comfort Leia Stark had known since the disappearance of her son, and the death of her husband. Han had been a good man; a scoundrel, a pirate and smuggler, possibly not the greatest king Westeros had ever known, but Ben...  
Ben had scarce been even thirteen years when he rode out with Luke from the Red Keep. Leia and Han had let him go, Poe could remember the day he left. Poe and Jessika had been in King's Landing, visiting with Poe's mother and father, and Ben had said his goodbyes to the Martells. Poe remembered Ben's anxiously excited face, his hands fumbling with the sword he'd been given by his uncle. Han had rarely been in the capitol, but Ben had been Poe's friend since they were boys. Poe had wept when he'd heard Ben was gone, the news brought to Dorne by raven from the Wall. He imagined that the Queen had fared much worse than he.  
Poe understood, watching Leia with the direwolf; he thought momentarily of Bumblebee, who would be waiting with the horses in the barn, likely, and knew how good a companion an animal could make. Lady Stark-- _ Queen  _ Leia of Houses Targaryen and Stark--could use any good company she could find.

Poe sighed softly, and raked a gloved hand through his hair.   
“Leia…” Lady Stark sat up again and met his gaze once more.   
“Send for Maester Pio and Ser Caluan, if you would. I think we’ve some preparations to make.” Poe was quiet for a moment, still contemplating this.   
“You’ll need more steel.” His tone was firm, but he saw the look in the woman’s eyes and he knew that somehow, this would work. Leia’s mouth slowly quirked into a little grin.   
“I wager I just may.” Poe smiled, giving a little shake of his head as he offered a shallow bow.   
“I’ve heard a riding party just left the Marches. I could gather some of the riders, run south to Dorne.” Leia took a deep breath through her nose, contemplating this. Her brow knit slightly as Poe watched, and her lips formed a thin line as she turned to gaze out the near window.

“We don’t know what the First Order is planning. Sending you south could prove to be another mistake--one that we cannot afford to make right now.” Poe frowned, but Leia tilted her head back slightly, eyes narrowing just a bit as her lips pursed slightly in the way they did when she was forming an idea. Poe let her think. Finally, she clasped her hands and idly ran a finger over the silver ring she still wore.

“...Let me speak with the Maester and my master-at-arms. I believe I may have a letter to pen this evening.”

  
  


Poe had been right, Bumblebee was perched on one of the walls between stalls in the stables, and the moment the white-and-orange cat spotted the Martell rider come striding past the doorway, he leapt down and let out a string of short, chirping meows, bounding after his master. Poe stopped and leaned down when the cat got close enough, laughing as Bumblebee hopped onto his arm to climb up and perch around Poe’s shoulders, bumping his round head against Poe’s ear and rubbing against his new-growing stubble.   
“Beebee!” Poe exclaimed, rubbing the spotted cat around his ears and continuing on towards the training yard, “Minding the horses, were you?” The cat gave a rumbling meow in response, settled on Poe’s shoulder as the man walked.   


The orange and white cat went wherever Poe went. He rode with the parties Poe rode in, settled into a saddlebag Poe had found specifically for him or on Poe’s shoulder as he did now. The other riders knew the cat as well as they knew Amidala now, and in recent years Bumblebee had begun to grow a bit more round than he was from all of their treats. The cat was very vocal and playful, despite having a docked ear and a little orange stump for a tail. His yellow eyes were round and always lively, and Poe Martell loved his little cat just as Leia Stark loved her wolf. 

The courtyard was full of the Resistance riders and the household of Winterfell, but Poe managed to find Ser Caluan once he entered the armory, the white-haired man taking inventory alongside Maester Pio as well. Poe’s entry with Bumblebee caught the attention of the maester’s white crow before anyone else, the old bird hopping around to face them on Maester Pio’s shoulder, flapping a bit and cawing at Poe.   
“Seven hells!” Artie was a mouthy, crass thing, but the whole of the North seemed used to his foul crow’s mouth by now. He’d been with Leia’s brother as he traveled for a long, long time, but near five years ago he’d found his way back to Winterfell, just after Leia and the Resistance soldiers had landed here again themselves. The two men taking inventory looked up when Artie sounded off, and Maester Pio paused in his writing.   
“Lord Poe! What brings you to the armory, my lord?” The old maester was lithe and pale inside of his dark robe and gold-and-bronze maester’s chain, with a smooth, short cap of silver-gray hair atop his head and a constant expression of mild concern on his aging face. He was a kind man, to be sure, but Poe thought he lacked social graces. He always sounded very polite, really, but there was rarely any sentiment to his voice; if anything, he sounded clinical in all things. The Martell rider could rarely stand to be in his company for too long, if he was honest. The older man was terribly  _ talkative _ , despite his plain way of speaking-- “We’ve been taking inventory, my lord, since you’ve all ridden back; Ser Caluan seems pleased that things have all been returned to their rightful places, and rightly so--”   
“What brings you to the armory, Poe?” Ser Caluan stepped forward, offering Poe a brief nod of his head.   
“Lady Stark, in fact. She wants to speak to the both of you.” The men glanced at one another and then Maester Pio gathered up his parchment and his quill, nodding a bit to himself as he did. Artie let out a few short caws, ruffling his white feathers.   
“She-wolf,” Artie rumbled, “Lady She-wolf!”

  
  


The next day, Lady Stark called for a small meeting.

The intimate group met in the godswood, before the heart tree. Leia stood at their head as the others seated themselves around her, Poe and Jessika Martell, Ser Caluan, Temmin Tully, and Kaydel Lannister. Enough to start a plan into action, too few for word to travel without having some idea where it came from. Poe trusted everyone present, and he knew Leia did as well.   
“Ser Caluan and I have determined that, at present, we have the means to help supply the North with weaponry. We plan to enlist smiths to help our own, and bolster the village workers to help without rousing such suspicion.” Ser Caluan nodded, and there was a murmur of assent through the group as Leia continued. “In return, we will be gathering grains and rations to be stored in Winterfell. The season is changing, I fear; I can feel it in my bones. Winter is coming, and this season will be long, and harsh. We must be prepared.   
“However, we need word to travel, and we need our allies to be just as well-armored as we are. That is where I need all of you.” There was a shift in the group as all of the riders looked at one another before turning back to Leia, listening intently. “Poe, Jessika. I need the two of you to ride south, back to Dorne. Ride with Temmin and Kaydel until you reach Riverrun, and then part ways.” the Martell cousins nodded, looking at one another skeptically as they listened. Leia turned to Temmin now, “Remain in Riverrun for now. Stay there, help arm the Riverlands. Talk to Lord Tully, explain what it is I am asking.” Temmin nodded, giving Lady Stark a jovial grin and rubbing his short, thick brown beard.   
“The Tullys and the Starks have been friendly since the Conquest and before. My uncle won’t turn you away now.” Leia smiled at this.   
“I have always considered Lord Cypress a good friend,” she offered with a nod. “But I must ask more of you from there. Your wife remains in Riverrun now, Karé is still in the Riverlands, is she not?” Temmin’s brow shot up at this and he nodded in response.   
“She is, my lady.”   
“I need you to pass a message through her to the Eyrie, to Lord Arryn’s eldest daughter, Paige.” Temmin nodded slowly, thinking this over briefly.   
“She won’t fail you, my lady.” Leia nodded back, and turned to Kaydel next.   
“Kaydel, I need you to ride for Casterly Rock. Speak to your aunt, pass along my words. I do not trust ravens now, nor messengers. Tell her that we must arm the Westerlands, and the Reach.” Kaydel nodded matter-of-factly. She was a pretty girl, with downturned, heavy-lidded brown eyes and heavy lashes over a small mouth, golden hair braided up away from her face. Kaydel wore greys and muted wine-colored gowns in the North, but always a golden lion pinned at her breast or in her hair.   
“The Rock is still one of the strongest holds in the seven kingdoms, my lady--we will see that our smallfolk are just as well armed as any king’s soldiers.” Leia nodded again.   
“From there, ride south to Highgarden. I still have family there among the Tyrells. They will come to our aid.”

  
Poe raised an eyebrow at all of this.   
“Paige Arryn, my lady?” Leia nodded, looking somewhat resigned about this decision.   
“We need eyes in King’s Landing. Paige is one of the best informants I have ever encountered, and one of our most clever members. She has a younger sister, and the two of them have ladies attending them from among their cousins, and even girls from the Crownlands.” Jessika’s brow knit beside her cousin, now.   
“So then we send them into King’s Landing as prisoners. If they reveal who they are, they will be executed. If they are found out, they will be executed.” Leia bowed her head slightly, nodding.   
“The risks we are taking are not ideal. Not in sending the Arryn girls to King’s Landing, nor in sending any of you, my best riders, south. But war is war, and we are losing ground.” Jessika sighs, nodding now. Jessika Martell was a strong girl, sturdy of build but no less feminine for it. Her face was round and youthful, with round lips and almond-shaped brown eyes. Her dark hair was in a long, loose braid at present, and like her cousin she wore a dark, woven cloak over silk in the colors of their house: red, orange, and gold. She wore twin golden cuffs on her wrists, both engraved with the spear-pierced sun of House Martell, a large ruby creating the sun of each. Kaydel nodded at Leia and turned to look at Jessika as she spoke.   
“Any of us could be captured and put to death. We all run such a risk any time we leave Winterfell. But for the greater good of the seven kingdoms, for this Resistance, for Leia of House Stark and House Targaryen, we still ride, do we not?” Jessika met Kaydel’s eyes and nodded after a moment, a smirk curving over her tanned face.   
“We do. We will.” The rest of the group nodded in agreement, and Temmin gave his broad chest a pat with a closed fist.   
“Aye, we ride for the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,” he declared, looking around at the others. Leia remained quiet as Poe agreed.   
“We will ride south, Lady Stark. We will arm the south, until the usurpers in King’s Landing are surrounded, and we can finally smother their poisonous smoke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well things are heatin' up in the north a lil bit  
> some appearances from the resistance folks!
> 
> i hope you guys can spot who's who, but feel free to ask if you don't recognize how i've translated some of these characters. i'm having fun getting to play with them.  
> next chapter will hopefully be up next week! this week is lookin' real busy but, i've at least already started writing c; i think you guys will like the next update.


	4. Rey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a girl is faced with many paths.

The Red Wastes were dry and hot--the eastern sun beat down on the ruddy land as a small, figure made their way over the barren dust on the back of a lithe zorse, miscolored so that it nearly matched the landscape it galloped across. It was a freak, the Jogos Nhai had been about to kill it when it’s rider had stopped them and traded for it. Proper zorses were white and striped with black, this one was white and striped with red gold. Its nose and ears looked pink, but its eyes were dark gold. It was a sturdy creature, hardy and strong and quick, and it’s rider stayed on it’s back as they raced across the dry land, kicking up dust in their wake.

 

They came to a stop in a small canyon, walking into the shade of the high rocks and continuing until they stopped abruptly, rider listening closely until they dismounted, and followed a very faint dripping sound. Finally, the rocks dipped and created a small basin, and there, gathered in a small, discolored puddle, was _water_. The rider unshouldered a sizeable sack, and withdrew a skin to collect from the puddle. Once it was full, it was stored away again, and the rider took a moment to tug their linen away, revealing the tanned, freckled, face of a young woman. She let out a long, relieved breath and shouldered her pack before crouching down to take a quick drink of the muddy-looking water for herself. It was bitter, grainy, but it was water and it was enough to wet her lips and keep her going. The zorse stayed its place, waiting silently for it's rider to come back, and when the girl did, she hefted her pack over its back and secured it onto the simple saddle her zorse wore, patted the creature on it's neck, and swung herself back up into place on its back. She took a few breaths, glancing around the little ravine briefly before covering her face again and setting back off out of the gorge and into the sun. This water would run dry soon. She’d need to bulk up at the next stop, but for now this would do.

 

Rey was scarcely eighteen, but survived alone in the wasteland few dared tread. She knew no family, no house name, but those things mattered little out here. What mattered in this land were water, and food.  
Rey rode under the bright sun back the way she’d come, past devilgrass patches and rock formations until she came to a rock shelf overlooking a small gorge, and slowly, she and the zorse made their way down into the basin of land.  
There was a small encampment there--under the shelf there was a spot of shade, and a small party had made camp. Five people, four of them asleep while one sat awake, meditating in the sun, unbothered by the heat. A red priest, fully clothed in silk and linen, their face and head covered. The fabric was all red--some of it embroidered with designs, strange and swirling, only evident when the fabric moved, somehow. The priest watched Rey arrive, watched her walk with her zorse under the shade of the rock shelf without a word. Rey didn’t question these things. She didn’t care who she ferried across the wastes. So long as she was paid, she did her job. This one, however--the other travelers were pleasant enough company. Band of traders from Braavos who had stories and songs for her, but the red priest had joined them just before they wandered into the wastes. The priest never spoke, only walked with them, made fires at night, kept watch while the others slept from time to time. Rey gave the priest a nod before passing them, but her breath caught for just a moment when she looked at the red-clad figure in the beating sun.  
Behind the silk, red eyes watched her pass, never leaving her face.

  


_The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,_  
_in a voice that was sweet as a peach,_

The night was clear and cool, a sickle moon in the sky overhead as they walked, Rey singing louder than the men trekking with her. Her zorse carried their goods, and a lantern, and the party walked. The Braavosi sang with Rey in laughing voices as she led the group, following the stars as she always had.

 _But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,_  
_and a bite sharp and cold as a leech..._

Rey was peculiar in that she insisted to travel by night. But it was cooler, and they ran much less risk of burnt skin and dehydration in the night hours. She knew her path by now, knew where there would be places to make camp, where water usually could be found. She’d lived in the wastes for years, she knew her way.

They paused to eat after a number of hours. The red priest made a fire, and the Braavosi brought out a bit of food to share among the group.  
“Have you been here long, girl?” The one called Alizer Gavant asked, an older man, with a curling black mustache peppered with white. His eyes were kind and Rey liked him most of the Braavosi; but she loved all of their accents, and the golden teeth that flashed when they smiled.  
“Forever and a day,” Rey replied with a little grin over the fire. The men laughed, nodding to themselves, and the red priest stayed silent nearby.  
“You’ve never thought to leave?” Another trader spoke up over his bread, and Rey took a breath, shrugging slightly.  
“Got a life here. Got a living to make.” the men laughed.  
“You’ve never known a city then, my girl!” Rey snorted.  
“Nothing in cities but liars and shit,” she replied, taking a bite out of a dried strip of meat. It was good--better food than most travelers had to bring with them.  
“And whores, can’t forget them,” one of them laughed, and Rey laughed back.  
“Got nothing for any whores, and I could get what I wanted in Pentos!” But Alizer shook his mustachioed head, sighing dramatically.  
“You must come to Braavos, my girl, the City of a Hundred Isles! There is no place like it in the world--and no whores like those of Braavos!” He made an appreciative gesture with his hand, and Rey grinned, watching as the other traders joined him in his praise.  
“The whores, certainly, but the _courtesans_ of Braavos are the most beautiful women in the world,” one assures her, “Men fight in duels every day over just a glance from one of them!” Rey laughed at this, shaking her head, but they continued.  
“Every one of them has her own barge, and servants to ferry them. They travel around on clouds of silk and flowers and brocade…”

Rey liked these stories. She couldn’t imagine anything so extravagant and ridiculous, but they were pretty thoughts. The group traveled on again, until the sun began to rise into the blue sky. They made a camp, and just as always, the red priest took first watch.  
Rey curled up beside her zorse and let sleep take her, dreaming of old things, and new things. To be a courtesan of Braavos...in the lightest silks, with flowers all around--she dreamt of being something beautiful and beyond reach, until there was a shadow in her mind’s eye, something dark and soft that reached for her and drew her in like the touch of a lover. She woke later as she always did from these dreams: a strange emptiness in her chest and the palms of her hands, and the faintest taste of smoke on her tongue.

 

The waste was cruel and hard. The travelers tried to sleep during the days, but those who took shifts on watch witnessed just how harsh the barren land could be. The traders told each other of things they saw while taking watch; Rey listened with a knowing expression on her face. She had seen the other travelers who lost their way, seen animals that fell prey to starvation and heat and the dry sickness. They were signs of caution to those who came across them: _this could be your fate, as well._  
Rey never dwelled on the sights for long.

They continued their journey through the nights. The moon grew large and the nights grew bright enough for the group to see without lantern or torch. The traders taught Rey songs from Braavos and from Westeros beyond, new songs written from weddings and battles. Rey wondered what Westeros was like, sometimes. Travelers had come to her from so far west before, she knew, and they brought her stories of great wars, dark winters, murdered kings, and great beasts called direwolves.  
“Have you ever left this place?” Alizer asked her one night as they walked, the moon near to full above them. Alizer’s three companions walked ahead of them, the red priest behind. Rey shook her head.  
“Gone as far as Pentos and Qarth. Don’t ever stay long in either.” The older man shook his head, gazing up at the stars.  
“You should see the world, my girl, before you are old and gray.” He shook his head again wonderingly, motioning up at the sky. “You see these stars? They are the same all over the world, and yet everywhere you go, they look so different. Even the sky herself is a new sight to see. If you wait until you are as old as I am, you’ll never be able to see everything!” Rey smiled at him, watching him grin up at the constellations overhead. She loved the stars, loved the night sky. It had kept her company through her long journeys, and she knew the constellations and their names by now. She used them to navigate, and they never steered her wrong. To think she could see this sight differently somewhere else...she shook her head fondly.  
“Perhaps one day.”

 

They stumbled upon a _khalasar_ , early one night. The traders were nervous and did not want to approach, but Rey quieted them, and went to meet with the _khasar_ , to find out who their leader was. The merchants tried to stop her, but it was the red priest who blocked their path without a word, only an outstretched hand in the dark. The merchants stayed close, watching the _khas_ interact with the young woman anxiously. The Dothraki riders were twice her size, towering over her, but they recognized her--laughed when she approached and beat their chests as they greeted the girl. Rey grinned broadly, speaking with them in their own tongue. This was Khal Jaharo’s khalasar; Rey had helped them reach the Jogos Nhai some time ago, and as thanks they welcomed her when they crossed paths with her. Rey knew the Dothraki, she’d learnt their language and had helped them with trading and journeying across the wastes before, more khalasars than just this one. They called her _shierak inavva_ \--star sister. They only ever found her wandering at night.

That night, they stopped a while in the Dothraki camp. The _khaleesi_ was pregnant, she learned--Jaharo had taken a new khaleesi and she was getting rounder by the day. Apparently they were traveling to find a zorse for the new child, and taking the path Rey had showed them some time before. Rey had to translate what the riders were saying, here and there, and if the merchants asked. The khal himself made a gesture at her and said something that made the group shout and laugh once, and Rey with them--though her group could tell it was not quite genuine.  
“He says if this wife doesn’t work out, he’ll have me for khaleesi one day,” she explained quietly after a moment, and snorted a little to herself. She wasn’t cut out for all that. She did see the pregnant khaleesi, however, and her eyes traveled over the swell of the woman’s stomach. She looked young, but held her belly protectively, held her head high. Rey understood this gesture on her part--she was bearing a khal’s child, that was an honor--but she could not fathom the thought of a life growing inside of her, of a child that would make her a mother. She saw the Dothraki girl’s eyes, watched her rub her belly slowly and sit proud near her khal.  
_Better her than me,_ Rey thought, and pushed the thoughts of children and motherhood out of her head.

Khal Jaharo ensured Rey was given food and some of their fermented mare’s milk, enough for her but not quite enough for her companions. A gift for a gift, she explained, telling them this was their way, and advising them to give their own ‘gifts’ as tribute to Khal Jaharo.  
“The Dothraki will repay you somehow,” she assured them, “That is their custom. Maybe not right away, but when they decide it is time.” The party followed her advice without argument, she suspected because of the fact they were surrounded by riders who were armed and much larger than all of them--but they offered perfumes, spices, and silk from what they had. Rey apologized later, but the merchants didn’t seem terribly put out by their loss.

“You speak the Dothraki tongue?” Alizer asked her as they made their way away from the camp later. Rey nodded.  
“Mm. It’s actually not so hard to learn, I trade with them sometimes.” The older man shook his head incredulously.  
“You should have been born into my family, my girl, I tell you! Trading with the horse lords, speaking their language…” Rey laughed.  
“Languages aren’t so hard. You’ve just got to want to learn.” Alizer laughed at this.  
“If I were faced with a horde of the Dothraki, I would want to learn, I think.” They both laughed now, and Rey studied the older man’s face as he laughed with her. _You should have been born into my family!_ Rey wondered what that might have been like, but let the thought pass away before long.

 

The Garden of Bones lay ahead of them, dry and spined with the bones of men and women the Qartheen turn away. Qarth was walled and enormous, looming in the distance over the dusty land and sun-whitened bones.

By now, the traveling party was walking in daylight. Qarth would not open to them at night, and so they were on foot under the beating sun now.  
“I much preferred the night,” one of the merchants griped as they walked, to the agreement of the others. They had nearly reached the gates, at least, but they had been walking for hours already and the heat was taking its toll. Only the red priest stayed silent and steady, walking with the group as if unperturbed by the heat. Rey had rarely been unnerved by travelers before, but this one…It seemed that every time Rey looked at the priest, their eyes were on her. Silently watching, never speaking. She had not looked at the red one much after so long. She thought she might be relieved when they parted ways.

Daylight was bright and beating, but the red priest still carried a torch, that day. No one said a word, accustomed by now to the strange traveler’s silence, but Rey knew the others wondered like she did.  
“The red ones seem to live in a world very different than our own,” Alizer offered quietly, “It is the same anywhere you go. I have not met one quite so silent, however.” Rey nodded, licking her dry lips.  
“I haven’t either.” Nor one who stared so much.

They were met by guards outside the great gates, astride pale camels, their coppery armor glinting in the sun. Rey walked at the head of the group then, taking them a respectable distance from the guards. Few words were exchanged--they knew the wasteland girl by now--but it was when their eyes landed on the red priest that the guards commanded the gates be opened to them. Rey said nothing, but when the strange priest passed her, she saw their red eyes on her again, and felt a shiver run up her spine.

She didn’t generally stay in Qarth. Her job finished, she journeyed back into the wastes--but the traders told her to come with them into the city.  
“Come and have a meal with us! You’ve gotten us here alive, let us buy you a meal!”  
She could never turn down a free, good meal.

 

It was dark by the time she was leaving the city finally; the stars were out, and she said her goodbyes to the traders, sorry to see them go but glad to have met them. Alizer Gavant dug into a satchel he had before she could leave, however, and presented her with a small silver coin. He leaned in slightly, pressing the coin into her palm.  
“Come to Braavos someday, girl,” he gave her a strange smile, “Find a Braavosi ship, give this to the captain. Do you know the words on it?” Rey glanced down at the coin in her hand, blinking. She’d never learned to read, the symbols meant nothing to her. She shook her head. He kept his voice between the two of them, “ _Valar morghulis_.” Rey’s breath caught just slightly. She knew those words.  
“All men must die,” she replied, nodding. Alizer closed her fingers around the coin, giving her a glittering grin under his mustache.  
“Yes. But, _valar dohaeris_ \--first, all men must _serve_. You will find passage to Braavos if you use this coin, and those words.” Rey stared at the little coin for a long moment, and then closed her fist around it again, smiling up at Alizer Gavant.  
“Thank you.” He gave her a nod, leaning back again.  
“Valar morghulis, Rey of the Red Waste. I will see you in Braavos one day!”

 

Rey found her zorse kept near the great doors leading back into the Red Waste, and with a full belly and a full sack of water skins and rations, she led the striped beast towards the exit to the beautiful city.  
The soldiers opened the gates wide enough only for she and her mount to pass through, but before she could leave, there was a hand on her wrist, stopping her. Rey spun on her heel to face the assailant, ready to defend herself, but she stopped short when she came face-to-face with the silent red priest. Her mouth felt dry as she stared into the priest’s red eyes, flames of a torch held in their free hand dancing in a reflection in their strangely-colored depths. For a moment, neither of them spoke, but then from behind the silk veil over the priest’s mouth came a low, deep woman’s voice that made every hair on Rey’s body stand on end.  
“Listen, girl: they come! Your destiny and your doom, should you not heed the stars!” She spoke the words in accented common tongue and Rey’s brow knit, feeling the priest’s hand on her wrist tighten.  
“What--”  
“Follow the night sky, let the stars fill your eyes and set aglow your heart. You will return to this place, foreign girl, daughter of the sun. Ready your heart: You will be lover to a great shadow, and give life to stone.”

Rey managed to wrench her arm away finally, and stumbled back away from the priestess, her brow knit over wide, mistrusting eyes. The priestess did not move, arm still held up where she had been grasping Rey’s wrist, torch held aloft. Rey shook her head as she tried to find her zorse’s lead again, trying to get away.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I finished my job here, I’m _leaving_.”

As she swung up into her saddle, she steeled herself from looking back, even a glance. She did not want any part of that woman’s strange words, or anything to do with the red faith. She was no one. That was how her life needed to remain.  
It made no matter if she looked or not—she felt the red woman’s gaze until the gates had closed behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooo here she is our lil sand baby  
> she gets a horse instead of a speeder here (grrm honestly you come up with like 15 languages and 10 religions and a whole world with different names and then u call zebra-hybrids zorses. really.)  
> (no seriously [this is a canon fact](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Zorse) and also [an actual term](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zebroid)) and her baby is leucistic, so it's colored a lil something [like this](https://us-east-1.tchyn.io/snopes-production/uploads/images/graphics/news/goldenzebra.jpg)  
> also we got some dothraki AND valyrian in this chapter; plus a red witch????? big stuff happening on essos.
> 
> rey has _options_ at the end here, hmmm...


	5. Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two girls are sent into the heart of darkness.

“Paige, you can’t seriously be entertaining this!” The Lord of the Eyrie was staring across the table at his eldest daughter, their food forgotten. Paige Arryn sat, straight-backed and impassive, fork still poised in her hand as she met her father’s gaze.  
“Lady Stark has asked this of--”   
“Leia Stark is not the Lady of the Vale, nor the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms any longer!” Lord Arryn’s voice thundered across the table, but silence did not fall for long.   
“Because of foreign invaders--foreign invaders who took hold of King’s Landing, seized power, and _murdered our king_ _!_ Or have you forgotten, father?” Paige had stood, pushing her chair back from the table. Her father’s face was stunned and furious as she braced her hands on the great table, staring him down.   
“You forget yourself, daughter--”   
“I forget _nothing_ _!_ I remember the day the raven came, I remember watching the party ride past! I remember peace, when we were not afraid for our smallfolk and their _children_ _!_ ” Her voice rang through the dining hall like a righteous bell, and she slammed her fork to the table, taking a step back. “I haven’t forgotten anything, father. Not a single thing. Leia Stark is the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. We swore fealty to her--the Vale,  _House Arryn_ , swore fealty to her! She is our queen, she is _my_ queen, and I will do what she is asking of me!”

When Paige left the table, her silent parents were left sitting with Karé Tully and their youngest daughter, Rose. Both girls looked rather awkward; Karé was taking a very quiet and careful drink of wine and Rose was staring down at her plate, contemplating what her sister had just said. She knew...she knew Paige was right.

Their father settled into his chair again nearby, and their mother rested a light hand on his arm to try and help calm him, but neither spoke another word throughout dinner.

 

  


“--going, Karé. I’ll bring Betha and Jeyne, and we’ll go.” It was Paige’s voice, from around the corner in the Maiden’s Tower as she climbed the stairs towards their apartments. There was torchlight on the walls, dancing with shadows just up ahead. Rose paused her steps, shrinking a bit closer to the inner wall of the staircase and listening.  
“Your father will be furious. We can’t risk the Lord of the Vale turning on us because his daughter’s run off to King’s Landing!” Karé’s voice. Rose swallowed, wringing her hands a bit. She knew Paige better than that. Paige wouldn’t be cowed like this, she wouldn’t back down.   
“Hang what father thinks--he’s afraid, Karé. He’s afraid, and I know he is.”   
“You can’t blame him for that, Paige. Many of us--many great houses, still--are afraid.”   
“Too many. If we all remain afraid, then who will help make things right? I’m going. I’ll slip out without telling anyone if I’ve got to. We know the cliffs like no one else does; Jeyne and Betha and I can get to Sky without aid--further than that is nothing.”

Rose stepped into view, just then, and both girls in front of her went silent.  
Paige Arryn was taller and leaner than her younger sister, with a lithe, feminine build that her blue gowns only enhanced. Her dark, sleek black hair was braided and coiled around her head in a wreath as usual, her large almond-shaped brown eyes watching Rose silently as she approached. Next to her, Karé stood, slim in her rust-red edged in deep blue, the colors of her husband’s house. Karé was from the Summer Isles, but had lived in Westeros most of her life now. Her bronzed skin and wheat-blonde hair set her apart, but she was every bit as much a part of the Resistance as anyone else. She rode with her husband, Temmin, now, and had proven herself loyal and brave. Rose liked her, and Paige had become friends with her quickly when they’d met. Now, she was here with words that would take Paige away from the Eyrie, away from her family.   
“Please...please don’t go like that, Paige.” Rose’s voice was tremulous, pleading with her sister. “Don’t leave that way. Father doesn’t want to lose you--can you blame him?” Paige seemed to float forward like a ghost, reaching and taking Rose’s hands in hers.   
“We have to do what’s right, Rose. We have the power to help so many people who can’t help themselves. All of our smallfolk, the people of the Vale, the people beyond our borders who look to us for help and guidance--I want to fight for them.”

Rose wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her sister’s eyes so pleading.

  


 

Dawn was barely breaking when Paige led Karé and her two ladies-in-waiting out of the Eyrie--the four girls had packed what they could and taken what money they were able, it seemed, and they were ready to make the journey down from the Eyrie to the valley of the Vale when they were stopped by a hurried, hushed cry: “Wait, wait! I’m coming with you!”

The girls all stopped, turning to find Rose rushing to come after them. She was holding the skirt of her traveling gown as she rushed, and Paige stopped, looking at her worriedly.  
“Rose--no, Rose you’ve got to stay; you have to, it’s too dangerous--”  
“I’m coming with you!” Rose insisted, “If you’re going, so am I!” The two of them were near three years apart, but they had been inseparable since Rose had been born. Paige had never let anyone else watch over Rose, and anywhere Paige went, Rose followed. This would be no different.

Paige took her sister’s hands again, her storm-blue hood ruffling a bit over her braided hair in the early-morning wind.  
“Rose, this is going to be….very dangerous. King’s Landing is not a safe place to be--I can’t...I can’t risk bringing you there…” Rose squeezed Paige’s hands tightly, leaning in determinedly.  
“I’m not letting you go without me. We do everything together. If you go, I go. You know how to climb but you’d be lost without me!”

The two were saved any further argument, however, by a troop of guards on horseback. The captain of the house guards, Ser Vardis, halted his horse in front of the group of women.  
“Lord Arryn requests your presence in the High Hall,” he rumbled at them, and the girls, deflated, let themselves be escorted into the castle once more.

  


The pale marble walls of the High Hall had never seemed so foreboding, Rose thought; the blue veins shooting through the white all seemed to take shapes around her: clutching hands, gaping teeth, skeletal figures. At the end of the great room, their father sat the throne of the Arryns, watching the women enter with the guards. He remained silent until they approached the ancient, pale, weirwood throne, and then his voice echoed through the enormous room.

“You would disobey me--all to abandon your house, your home, your _family_ …” Paige stood at the foot of the dais the ancestral seat stood on, facing her father without fear on her face.  
“I would disobey you _for_ my house, my home, and my family!” Paige rebuked him, practically lunging forward. “You are the Warden of the East--we are the defenders of the Vale, as we have been since the Conquest, and now we must sit by and watch as this _creature_ dissolves our peacetime--the monster who overthrew our king and queen, who steals our _children_ _!_ ” She rounded on Jeyne and Betha now, who stood back a bit near Karé and Rose. “Jeyne--tell him, tell him how your father wrote of children in the villages around Heart’s Home being ferried off on decree of the king! Betha, your aunt wrote the same of Wickenden just weeks ago!” Rose swallowed a bit as the two girls nodded, exchanging glances.

“Father...father would ask for assistance in keeping his smallfolk safe, my Lord Arryn,” Jeyne Corbray was a tall, willowy girl with a thin face and dark hair, a naturally smiling mouth, and downturned eyes that made her look as if she were constantly dazed. She laced her long fingers as she spoke, “They came weeks ago, a troop of the king’s soldiers, the Stormtroopers. They made off with the children of three villages--they said it was by order of the king.” Beside her, little rounded Betha Royce nodded sadly, her large, brown eyes gazing up at Lord Arryn imploringly, her small mouth in a pitiful frown.   
“My aunt wrote from Wickenden that the smallfolk were coming in droves, asking for protection. Their children...there were so many taken. By accounts, at least fifty, if not more!” Rose clenched her hands a bit at this. _So many…_  
Paige stared her father down defiantly.

“Fifty!” her voice rang through the hall, silencing all else present. The numbers being spoken aloud that way made things all the more real, and all the more chilling.  
But Paige pressed on.

“Fifty of your people’s-- _our_ people’s--children, taken to be sent across the sea! You know what they do, you know what they’ve done to the ones who were taken before!” Heads bowed in shame, Rose’s among them as she averted her gaze. They knew. The children who were taken were shipped to Yunkai, to Meereen, to Astapor. Sent to be trained as Unsullied--brought back home to serve as Stormtroopers.

Finally, their father’s voice, through the quiet.  
“You would have me send my only daughters, my only children, into that pit?” Rose looked back up now, and her lips turned downward at the sight of his expression. “Leia Stark asks me for aid, and I heartily grant it. Rations, men, weapons. Shelter for our fighters. Protection for the Resistance. I grant it.” Lord Arryn had begun down the steps of the weirwood throne to the foot of the dais now, advancing on Paige and the girls. He stood over his eldest daughter at last, his eyes sad in a weary face. “Now she asks me to send my girls, my only daughters, to serve as spies, knowing they could be caught and executed at any time.” Rose’s hands fisted into her skirt at her sides, watching Paige face their father without backing down.  
“She is asking us to do what is _right_ , father. The Resistance needs help. More of our children are being taken, and nothing is changing.”

“And now,” the thin voice of their Maester came just then, from near the foot of the throne, slightly high and worried as ever, “The Citadel has sent their ravens. The Stark’s words will always have the right of it: Winter is coming. They fear this summer is finally reaching an end.”

Silence fell again. Rose felt her chest swell slightly.

_Winter_.

Was summer truly at an end? Rose hadn’t seen a winter in her lifetime--not one that she could recall. She had been born near the end of the last winter, named for the flowers her mother had so terribly missed. Rose had only heard stories; Paige had told her of the last winter, what she could remember. She was only three years Rose’s senior, born during the same winter, but Paige could remember some of it. She remembered smallfolk and animals dying of cold and starvation, remembered feeling so cold she thought she’d never be warm again. Winter was dark and terrible, a time of death and cold and fear.

Perhaps this was why Lady Stark was becoming more bold--all of Westeros knew the Stark words. ‘Winter Is Coming’. But Leia Stark was the blood of the old dragons, raised a Stark in the North, but something else ran through her veins. Did she have the old Valyrian magic that allowed the Targaryens to ride dragons and conquer kingdoms? Some said Valyrian blood was magic blood, and gave the Targaryens premonitions and foresight. They had escaped the Doom, they had conquered Westeros. They had ridden dragons before all of them had died away. Leia Stark, Leia Targaryen, had somehow found her twin brother--had, with him and her late husband, taken back the Iron Throne, and had led a rebellion when she was younger than Rose was now. She had survived the Fall of Shadows when her husband had been murdered and her throne taken, and she had lived on to lead the Resistance now. Rose had only met her once before, but the woman was not one to forget. Perhaps she did know something, sense something, greater than the rest of them did. Darkness had fallen upon King’s Landing, spreading to the rest of the seven kingdoms, and now in its’ wake, winter was looming, cold and cruel.

  
  


 

It was Paige who had come up with the idea.

Other houses had been doing similarly to garner favor—sending boys to foster or become squires, sending girls to become wives.  
Paige would be the latter, of course; an offering from House Arryn to prove their loyalty. Her three ladies-in-waiting would be with her, as any lady of any respectable noble house would have, and so Rose, Jeyne, and Betha would be no more out of place than any other courtiers in the Red Keep. Rose had never been to King’s Landing, nor had she been formally presented to anyone who would likely be present in the capitol city, and so she could go anon as one of Paige’s ladies without problem.

This meant, however, that Rose would be passed off as a cousin of the main house; it was a failsafe, in case anything were to go wrong. The girls were determined that nothing would go wrong.  
“I ride for Riverrun tomorrow. I’ve gotten word that the Martell cousins have reached the Rock, and wait for Lady Lannister to return.” Karé kept her voice between the five of them, the small group of women with hands clasped and heads together. “Safe travels, my friends.” Paige nodded at her firmly.   
“Safe returns. I will send a raven when we reach the capitol.”

All five girls clasped their fists in the center of their small huddle.  
“For the Resistance!”

  


Reaching the Kingsroad was easy enough travel for their small company. From there, it was short of a week’s ride into King’s Landing, and on the road the girls had taken time to pen letters as best they could, and discuss the task that lay ahead of them. Rose felt apprehension in her very bones as the royal city loomed into sight, and she felt stomach-sick when their carriage was met by a party of gold cloaks, the Commander of the City Watch at their head addressing Paige personally.

“My Lady Arryn. The Hand of the King has been expecting you; please allow us to escort your party to the Red Keep.”  
“Expecting me?” Paige’s brow knit as she sat across from her sister, taking care not to lean out the window of the carriage or expose her face, or anyone else in their cabin. “That seems quite impossible; please let us pass--”  
“Apologies, my lady, but we are on orders from Lord Armitage Hux. We will escort you to the Keep from here.”  
Paige said nothing further, but Rose saw the bob of her throat, and knew that this was not good.

No one should have known they were coming, least of all the Hand of the King.

 

The ride into the Keep itself was silent, all four girls quiet and nervous.  
Paige kept a level head and a steady tone, addressing the others in a hushed voice.  
“No matter what happens, you remain calm. Nothing is suspicious about our arrival here. We are doing nothing wrong. I have been sent by my father, the Lord Arryn, Warden of the East and Defender of the Vale, to be wed in a match to strengthen our ties to the Iron Throne. Nothing more.” Jeyne and Betha nodded, but Rose frowned.  
“This feels wrong, Paige. Something isn’t right here.”   
“I know.” Her sister breathed, going quiet again and taking a silent breath, “I know.”

None of the girls knew what ‘something’ was, but all the same, it loomed over their heads like a shadowcat, waiting to pounce.

 

They were brought directly to the chamber of the small council, guards flanking the four girls on either side and trailing behind as well. These were Stormtroopers, not simple gold cloaks; their white armor was gleaming and perfect, but Rose felt unnerved by the fact she could not see any part of their faces.   
Jeyne and Betha stayed close, but Paige walked at their lead, her head held high.  
_I hope you feel as confident as you look, Pae-pae,_ Rose thought, fingers fiddling with the cloth of her sleeves, _because I feel like we’ve just walked right into a trap._

“Lady Paige Arryn, as requested, my lord,” they could hear the commander’s voice inside the chamber as he’d walked in to announce them, and Rose shifted anxiously on her feet. This all seemed strange; being brought here so immediately like this. No one should have known they were coming--she wanted to protest, question these men! No one should have known they were coming!  
And then they were ushered into the vaulted meeting hall, and the air went still and quiet as the door shut behind the four of them.

Rose didn’t know all of the faces seated at the great meeting table in the hall, but some she could assume. The rounded, bald head of who must be the Spider, Varys, in colorful silk. The dour expression of a graying and staunch man with formerly-ginger hair that she took to be Lord Canady, the master of ships. The youngest of the men at the table was the dark-haired master of coin, another foreigner, Lord Mitaka. The others she wasn’t so certain of, but the man seated at the head of them she knew, if not by face then by reputation alone.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anyone that looked so sickly and yet so strangely imposing at once. His hair was the color of fire, combed back from his pale face, every strand seeming to be perfectly in place. He sat rod-straight in his seat, watching the group of girls enter with eyes as pale blue as ice that made Rose shiver in her gown. He was a foreigner, she knew, from one of the old houses of the Wise Masters of Yunkai. His clothing was dark, the silk fabric shifting colors in the filtered light in a way that made Rose think of a snake’s scales, and on his steepled fingers she could see a large gold ring glint here and there.

She did not like this man, and she certainly didn’t trust him.

“Lady Arryn. The King informed us of your journey here--how...curious...that you should visit the capitol, and without your lord father. I take it he is unwell?” The words seemed pleasant enough, but there was no mirth in the man’s crisp voice. Paige stood her ground.  
“You are misinformed, then, my lord--my father is as well as he has ever been, and as such remains in the Eyrie to maintain his title as Warden of the East, and Defender of the Vale.” she used his titles to assert her status, Rose knew, and she stood silently with Betha and Jeyne as Paige spoke. “He has sent me here in the hopes that a suitable match may be found, and our great house’s ties to the Iron Throne might be strengthened through a marriage union.”

There was a soft murmur around the table, and then it was the Spider who spoke, his soft voice much more pleasant and cheerful than the Hand’s.  
“We are aware of your lord father’s responsibilities, my lady,” he sounded terribly placid, watching Paige with interest, “What a relief to know he is still enjoying his good health. Your sister remains in the Eyrie, then, I imagine?” Rose willed herself to stay impassive and still as Paige didn’t miss a single beat.   
“She is. My lady mother could not bear to part with both of her daughters, I’m afraid, no matter what her hopes for the future generations of our house may be.” Rose felt the bald man’s eyes on her and kept her expression neutral, anxious though she was. Finally, he nodded and made a quiet sound of acceptance.

“You seem quite forthright about all of this, Lady Arryn.” The Hand’s voice again. He was leaning forward over the table slightly now, watching the elder Arryn girl.  
“I see no reason not to be, my Lord Hand.” Paige’s response was simple and polite, “My father’s wish is to foster trust and loyalty between our house and the Throne, certainly I would be remiss in greeting your lordship with intrigues and falsehoods.”  
The Hand seemed to consider this, sitting back a bit in his seat, though his frigid eyes remained on Paige.

“Indeed you would.”


	6. Hux II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a decision must be made.

The figures were growing steadily smaller as the weeks passed. It was impossible to deny, now, not with everything recorded and accounted for; had this been peacetime, their armies wouldn’t need so much growth, but this was not peacetime, and the Resistance was becoming more and more of a thorn in his side by the day.

There had been few reports of any disturbance from them in recent weeks, though what word he _was_ receiving was of suspected Resistance riders heading further south, which likely meant they were bound for Dorne. Ever since the embargo had been set into place there had been an uproar amongst traders, but the few instances of anything getting out of control had been quickly silenced.

The docks were calm now, for the most part.

If the Resistance was intending to reach Dorne for any sort of assistance, then they would be watched. Beyond that, any advance made on King’s Landing from the Dornish would be anticipated and quickly noticed; Dornish ships were currently being watched for in the harbors, and traders by land were being barred from entry--an entire army would hardly present any kind of stealthy threat at the moment.

 

From the tall windows of the Tower of the Hand, Armitage Hux surveyed the Red Keep and King’s Landing below. He imagined he could see the people so far beneath where he stood now, milling about the filthy roadways and toiling in the day’s sun down amidst the horses and marching soldiers--it was disgusting to contemplate. His thin fingers curled around his hands, thumb circling the outline of the harpy on his golden signet ring. He could not say he particularly missed his home; the heat in Yunkai was near intolerable, and after the death of his father he’d been eager to remove himself from the ancient city. Meeting Snoke had been what he might term ‘destiny’ if he were inclined to believe in such things, and now here he stood: the Hand of the King, for all intent and purposes a ruler of Westeros.

But he was not king.

Little escaped the observant attention of the foreign lord, least of all his current status.

  


The tower seemed far too much of a hassle, some days; the steps were far too numerous for quick travel, and if one had to be anyplace in any sort of hurry, there was little to be done. Thankfully he was not in any hurry that day, but with everything weighing on the Hand’s mind, the tedium of travel was grating. By the time he stepped into the sunlight, even the sudden brightness was enough to make him grit his teeth in aggravation.

He was no longer alone, however.

“Varys. To what do I owe this intrusion?” The eunuch matched Hux’s step, the Hand not bothering to so much as slow himself as he exited the tower. He could smell the perfume wafting from the Spider’s colorful robes, and only slightly wrinkled his nose now.  
“I find taking in the weather is so much more satisfying when done with company,” came the airy response, and Hux did not bother hiding his very audible sigh, though Varys continued. “My little birds have sung quite a fantastic song into my ears recently,” he sounded deliberately coy, “A fantastic song indeed, about green fire being created in King’s Landing.” Hux maintained his stoic expression, not so much as blinking at the statement.  
“Your birds must be quite talented to craft such a ballad.” His pale eyes shifted very briefly to Varys beside him, “I do hope for their sake they have only sung this song to you.” The eunuch nodded primly.  
“Of course—they understand that I alone have an appreciative ear for their creative lyrics.” Hux could see him looking at him out of the corner of his eyes. “A more fantastic thing still would be the truth in these words, however.”

Hux didn’t miss a beat.  
“Were there any such truth, I would think you to be wise enough to refrain from discussing it—with myself or anyone else—“  
“Wise? High praise from you, Lord Hux…”  
“—Wise, or else attached enough to your pitiful existence to know better,” Hux continued, and silence fell for a number of paces between them, the gardens of the Red Keep deceptively peaceful around the walking pair.

 

“Lady Arryn has become quite the interesting fixture here, I’m sure you’ve noticed, my Lord Hand…” Finally the quiet was put to an end again. The master of whisperers was always one to mince words, but Hux was not one to participate.  
“Interesting to you, Varys, or to me? I assume you’re implying the latter.” The eunuch giggled, bowing slightly as he continued pace with the taller man.  
“Would I be correct in my implications, then?”   
“Hardly.”   
“Mm, that’s a shame, then. A relief for Lady Arryn, I’m sure, but a shame for you.”   
“In what way.” Hux was tiring of this conversation, and it had only barely begun. The mismatched pair continued towards the main halls of the Red Keep, no particular destination in mind, though Hux could easily make anyone believe he was on course to someplace important.   
“In the way that all lovely, unmarried, young highborn women should be of interest to unmarried and highborn men, my Lord. Certainly young highborn women sent to _be_ married…” Hux’s brow flattened on his pale face and he kept his gaze forward.

“So this is your game.”  
“Oh far from, my dear Lord Hux!” He gave a sweeping sort of gesture, “I would hardly consider the subject of marriage a game…” Hux’s eyes narrowed slightly.  
“Don’t you?” He quipped back, “This all seems quite trifling, even for you, Varys.”  
“I assure you, my lord, it is anything but.”

For half a second, Hux’s pale eyes flicked to the bald man beside him, and then back ahead. There was more at work here, and Hux was not keen to play into it.  
“Tell me, Varys, what do you stand to gain from this?”  
“Always for the throat. I suppose that’s what landed you your current position--”   
“Answer the question, Spider.”   
“--I merely mean to suggest that such a match would be beneficial for anyone involved with Paige Arryn or her house. The Arryns have been a great house just as long as the Starks or the Lannisters, and their seat the Eyrie is, as you well know, considered impregnable. A match with the Arryn girl would mean securing the Vale for the king...providing her match is, of course, loyal to the First Order in the first place.”

This did silence the Hand for a few moments. As damnably obnoxious as Hux found the eunuch, he did at least understand the Westerosi and their houses better than he did. Luckily for Hux, Varys decided to excuse himself just as the Yunkai’i was contemplating all of this.

The one thing he noted that the Spider had been very careful to implicate was perhaps the greatest obstacle of all:

Paige Arryn was suspected to be a member of the Resistance.  


 

The girl did little to implicate herself.

If anything, she was preposterously _average_ as far as ladies were concerned; she dressed her part, made her cordial greetings, attended court as requested. Her behavior was no different than any other woman at the Red Keep, and yet something about just how mundane it all was seemed not...quite...right.

 

Varys’ strange suggestion remained on Hux’s mind through the next week. It certainly wasn’t forefront, but it was enough to have him contemplating the possibilities of this arrangement more than once.

Armitage Hux had never fancied himself married. The company of women had never particularly interested him--nor had that of men, for that matter, and he’d been baited with such taunting before. He was no stranger to what he termed ‘baser instincts’, however, though Chataya’s was the only brothel he deemed to frequent, and his visits were short and followed by a great amount of disgust on his part. Whores were an integral part of any place, he granted, but the whole business left nothing but distaste in his mouth.

A wife, on the other hand, was sure to be no better--and there were certain _obligations_ that came with marriage, obligations his lip curled to even entertain.

 

The king seemed intrigued enough by Varys’ ideas, unfortunately.

“The girl’s family could be of use to us.”  
“The Vale is not the closest of the kingdoms to us, nor is it the strongest of these seven domains. A marriage alliance alone would not hold House Arryn on near the leash we desire, nor would it grant us the power we need, your grace!” Hux was adamant about this. If he was to be subjected to being this bargaining piece, it would be for a more worthwhile avenue.

“This match is the most fortuitous we have been presented with yet. A daughter of one of the Great Houses here now...This is not a chance I intend to let pass. The girl will be found a match to bind she and her house to the Iron Throne and the First Order, whether it is with one of our loyal lords or you yourself, Armitage.” Snoke’s voice echoed through the Great Hall, and Hux felt his nostrils flare with the intake of breath he heaved at this declaration.

This was not something he could get out of any longer.

 

 

He was at least spared the thought for another few days when finally word was received from Essos that the Knights of Ren had departed Pentos bound for Volantis by way of the Valyrian roads. Hux knew they would reach Qarth within the coming months if they kept up travel as they had been, that was, if they could either make port from Volantis or make their way through the Red Waste--both of which seemed questionable routes. To Qarth by sea took them past the ruins of Valyria, and that meant navigating far around the destroyed peninsula to avoid it entirely or navigating through the ruins themselves, and that bought the risk of Stone Men, or worse, if the rumors could be believed.

The Waste was an entirely different trial; either the Knights wandered into the red desert and hoped for an ending to their journey that wasn’t starvation or dry sickness, or simply exhaustion and then death by the heat...

Or they would find a guide.


	7. Kylo II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which paths converge.

The trip had been a long one—and it was longer still ahead, he knew. Essos was hot and humid, and hotter still the further south they traveled. Norvos and Qohor had been temperate, but Volantis was near intolerable, and the road leading beyond was worse. They had ridden again from Volantis, deciding to forgo sea travel. The Knights were superstitious, reminding their leader of the Doom and its continued desolation in Valyria, but Kylo Ren did not need reminding. It was his ancestors who had escaped the Doom, his blood that traced back to the Valyrian Freehold before everything was lost. He knew the stories. He knew the tales of what lay in wait for wayward travelers on the ancient, ruined peninsula. But it was not this that made him decide on facing the barren desert sands.

Something much older, much less certain was driving him towards the Red Waste. He did not know what he would find there, but the farther east he traveled, the more the far-off wasteland seemed to call to him.

So they had taken to horseback again, riding east and then _further_ east, bound now for Meereen.

The walled city loomed into view long before the small party reached it, the bronze harpy atop the great pyramid winking at them in the sunlight, and thankfully so.  
“Minute we get in there,” Krytha gestured to the high walls, “I’m finding me a drink, and a whore.” The others laughed, Solea leaning slightly to better see the other knight as they rode.  
“Tell you what, I’ll go halves with you and we’ll get three of ‘em!”  
“Three what? Drinks, or girls?”  
“Don’t see why it can’t be both.” Another laugh. Kylo heaved a breath beneath his helm.  
“We’re not staying long. Once we find a guide, we leave. The waste will take weeks to cross, even knowing the way.”  
Nuaala, riding beside their leader, nodded and called to the others behind them dryly,  
“Means you lot get your fill of drink and cunt while you can, or we’ll leave your sorry asses behind.”

 

They were welcomed into Meereen by a party of representatives from the city’s ruling parties: a gathering of Great Masters, and the Green Grace of Meereen. It was she who spoke first, drifting forward to the knights in her green silks, her white hair stark in contrast to her tanned, ancient skin--or what they could see of it, peeking from beneath the draping green silk of her tokar and the veil she wore over that.  
“We welcome you to Meereen, Knights of Ren,” she greeted them, but at once, Kylo Ren did not feel at ease in this city.

 

The knights had indeed separated from him as they’d been vowing nearly the entirety of the ride here, and almost grudgingly, Kylo Ren had resigned himself to an evening in the guest quarters they had been granted by one of the less-prominent of the ruling houses of the Great Masters.  
The rooms were sparse but clearly still acceptably decorated for guests of their status, although there was a certain look about all of it that suggested their host’s coin was not readily spent on guests or entertaining...and as evidenced by his ‘hospitality’, neither was the Great Master’s time.

Kylo Ren had immediately disliked the man who had introduced himself as Unkar of the Plutt House, a hulking ton of flesh barely contained beneath a tokar of grey with fringe in bronze and silver. He was curiously hairless, with a prominent, flat nose and beady eyes. He appeared swollen, and it was no wonder, really: Kylo wasn’t sure he’d seen the man yet without a goblet in hand.

They were waited on in his manse by various slaves, though Kylo refused them entry to his room. He misliked this ‘slave’ business, and the least of his wants was a strange body shuffling about his quarters during one of the few occasions he’d found to rest in an actual _room_ over the past flow of weeks. If his host was offended by this he made no sign of it, and the night passed quietly, with Kylo Ren finally out of helm and cloak and overlooking what he could see of the vast city from the terrace of his guest chambers in the great brute Plutt’s home.

The air here smelled of perfume and incense, but there was something lurking beneath it. The knight thought of the fighting pits he knew lay about the city, and took a quiet breath, briefly thinking of the other knights. They would, as he knew, be whoring and drinking enough to keep them out all night, but the quiet for him was welcome.  
Qarth lay ahead of them, somewhere even more eastward still.  
Before that, however, the Red Waste waited.

_...en…_  
A whisper on the night wind, something soft and half-there, ancient and new all at once.  
_...Ren…_  
Kylo Ren ran a hand over the lower half of his face, and took a deep breath, bracing one arm on the stone wall of the terrace. The closer the desert grew, the more strangely he felt. The dreams were coming more frequently than they ever had, dreams of red dirt and stars and a voice that knew him, of golden eyes that seemed to bloom with deep green vines in an unknown face…

And now he heard a voice on the wind in his waking hours.

He shuddered involuntarily in the night air, and retreated inside. They would find a guide tomorrow. He would finally face the desert he had never seen before, that called to him as if it knew him.  
But now, he would sleep.

He thought of the fires of the red priests in Pentos again as he lay down in the darkness, and in his mind’s eye, it was as if he saw figures beginning to emerge from the flames.

 

Morning brought the stink of piss and blood and drink as the other knights made their way back to Plutt’s manse, the lot of them not bothering with greetings to Kylo Ren. He didn’t bother with glaring at them. It wasn’t as if it would do any good, either way. Instead, he ventured out alone, driven by something he could not name to find a way into the wasteland. Sleep had brought the dreams again, _a figure silhouetted under a sky of stars, red desert below, flecks of bronze on sand, green growing from gold, a voice in the night, fireglow all around and the beat of wings and heart a star that bled fire_ and he was close, close to something that beckoned him and had been kept silent for years, silent from mother, father, friend and foe, from _Snoke_ …

 

In his dark helm and dark cloth, he cut a path through the streets with ease until finally he entered one of the markets--and was immediately approached by vendors looking to help him find whatever it was he was searching for. What they offered was not what he was after, unfortunately, and finally when his patience was wearing thin he snapped at one of them.

“A way to Qarth is the only thing I seek here--trouble me no further if you cannot satisfy that!” Apparently, however, this merchant could.  
“Guides through the Red Waste are few, but there is one who can be found in this city. But I fear I have heard the girl is not yet returned from her last journey, my lord.”

_Her?_  
“What girl?” the merchant nodded rather simperingly.  
“Yes, yes, the girl is reliable, I can assure you--she has ferried travelers as far as Pentos and many times to Qarth!” Beneath his helm, Kylo Ren’s eyes narrowed.  
“Where can I find this girl?”

 

Dusk was falling by the time he returned to their host’s home, and with no more for his efforts than he’d left with that morning. He’d been to three markets through the city trying to find this strange girl, and no one could give him a solid response as to where he might, without a doubt, find her. Frustrated and beginning to tire, he’d finally given up his search for the day as the sun was setting.

 

The manse was just as it had been the night before, though now he could hear voices as he entered, admitted by one of the thin house slaves Unkar Plutt kept. There was a conversation in Old High Valyrian--rather than the Meereenese widely-spoken bastardization of it and Old Ghiscari, which suggested this conversation was meant to be private--taking place somewhere close, he could hear it echoing through the stone halls as he tried to find the source. Something was...strange. One of the voices was clearly Plutt, but the other…

“--ad a deal! I’ve done everything you asked, this wasn’t anything I agreed to--!”  
“You think you’ve a choice in this? You’ve enjoyed your years of freedom that I so graciously granted you! Now I am being reimbursed what I spent on you in the first place, and for _your_ hide, I couldn’t get away with more as it is--”  
Silence fell as Kylo Ren appeared in the doorway of a small chamber, one that looked as if it were meant for accounting. Scrolls sat in shelves on the walls, and a great desk sat, covered in more papers, a sack of coins spilling over the lot of it.

“My apologies, my Lord Ren, I did not know you had returned,” the Great Master greeted him, switching to the common tongue, and there was an edge to his clipped, polite voice that suggested Kylo Ren was not welcome to this conversation. Kylo couldn’t have given less attention to the bloated, blithering carcass, however. His eyes were instead focused on the owner of the second voice, who stood a few feet behind the Meereenese highborn.

A young woman. She was thin, draped in linens of brown and tan that cocooned her small figure, with dark hair that teased of brown in the candlelight, tied back away from her face and haphazardly knotted in three knobs down the back of her head, loose strands hanging around her oval face. To the passing eye she was plain, but he found he liked the sharp line of her nose, her angular jaw, the shape of her lips. She was subtly lovely, covered in dirt as she was, clearly coated in dried sweat and grime and dappled with more freckles than he thought he’d ever seen on a woman.

She stared at him as well, shocked and a bit frightened, but it was not the stare that perturbed him. It was her _eyes_ . In the soft light, they were amber, but something else gleamed there, something deep and _green_.

“You…” He took a step into the room towards the girl, addressing her in Valyrian, and she backed away. Under his helmet, his brow knit. “Who are you?”  
Unkar Plutt lodged himself between them, eclipsing the girl from view, though he looked a bit more aghast at the discovery that his guest spoke Valyrian as well.  
“She is no one, my lord. A slave. If our...conversation...disturbed you--”  
“A slave?” Over the oaf’s fat shoulder, Kylo Ren could see the girl again, her eyes still fixed on him as she stood in silence. She was not dressed as one of the freeborn, but there was not the look of a servant, not the look of one of these slaves, on her face. She looked at him now with something wary in her expression, but there was curiosity there, and something deeper still.  
“Yes--one that has unfortunately overstepped her bounds--” he rounded on the girl, his voice a hiss. “--And one who will be punished for her insolence. Your days in the desert are _done,_ you impudent little--”

“Are you the girl who ferries travelers to Qarth?”  
Kylo Ren’s voice came, harsh as it ever was from beneath his helmet, and silenced the great mound of flesh and silk between himself and the girl. He saw surprise on her face, and then she nodded, but Plutt shook his round head.  
“Not anymore she isn’t--” Before the obese slaver could finish, Kylo Ren had produced a jingling sack of coin, holding it out in front of himself.

“The Knights of Ren require a guide to Qarth. This girl has been the only such person I have been told of in my searching all day, and after so much effort I have found myself quickly growing short of time and much more quickly of _patience._ My coin, however, is _not_ in such short supply.” His tone was clipped, but then lowered to a much more threatening level, “I require a guide, Lord Plutt.” The leather of his black glove shifted around the mouth of the coin sack slightly, creating a very unsettlingly intimidating noise in the quiet room. “I will be taking the girl.”

The silence was constricting as tightly as Kylo Ren’s gloved hand around the coinpurse until finally it broke.  
“She’s already been _sold_ , Lord Ren. I’m no longer her owner, you’ll have to make your offer to him when he arrives in two days. Until then, I’m afraid I cannot accept coin for her!” The swollen mass of a man sounded entirely too pleased with all of this back in the common tongue, his beady eyes positively glittering as he eyed the sack of coin in Kylo Ren’s grasp. Behind him, the girl’s strange, familiar eyes had darkened and cast her gaze downward until finally, she rushed out of the room without a backwards glance. On her heels was the scent of sun and sand, and the soft sound of rustling cloth almost like the flap of wings.

 

The next day passed quietly. Kylo Ren remained in his chambers and the only soul that entered or left his rooms for the day was Nuaala, but even that visit was brief.

It was night again before he knew it, and as he’d refused any other entry to his chambers his candles had not been lit, leaving the room in dim darkness until finally he’d gotten up to try and fumble with them himself--only to be interrupted by a soft rap on his door.  
He paused, going still, eyes narrowing beneath his helmet. He’d left it on, debating all day over going back out into the city and never having done so. The knock had been so soft he wondered if he had imagined it, but then again just as he went to reach for a candle again, there was another knock.

The knight grit his teeth and his head snapped up towards where he knew the doorway to be in the dark, a growl issuing from under his helmet in the quiet.  
“I’ve told you all, I require no assistance, leave me be!”  
But the door opened.

He was stunned by this movement, assuming some house slave had gotten entirely too bold, but as his eyes adjusted to the light from the hall outside, he realized he was wrong.

 

It was the girl.

 

She stood in the burning light of the hall torches, looking at him with an expression on her face that told him she was uncertain about all of this, but determined to complete the task she’d come here for.  
“You’re looking for passage to Qarth, aren’t you?” Her voice was soft, but a perfect, unaccented common that caught him by surprise. He took a step towards her, looking her over. She stood more than a head shorter than him, and much smaller of frame, looking up at him defiantly. She was in the linens again, but now she looked as if she were ready to _leave_ , rather than freshly returned. She wore leather belts and a pack, and a long staff at her back. In the low light, he could only see the gold in her eyes, but it was enough.  
“Yes.” He watched her for a moment, gauging what this was about. She fidgeted when he didn’t immediately elaborate, and he understood.  
“Well--do you want my help or not?”  
“You speak the common tongue.”  
“And Valyrian, and Ghiscari, and Dothraki, and plenty of others if that’s what you need!” He took another step closer and watched her go a bit still, clearly thinking of backing away.

She held her ground. He liked this.  
“You’ve been sold. Are you trying to run away?” He cocked his head slightly, looking her over with interest. She glared.  
“I’m not a-- _do you want my help or not?!_ ” She snapped, fists clenching at her sides as she shifted on her feet. Beneath his helmet, Kylo Ren smirked.  
“I think it’s _you_ who wants _my_ help.” The girl made a frustrated sound and spun on her heel to storm away, but before she could get far, he grasped her wrist, and drug her back into his room, shutting the door behind her, extinguishing the light from outside. She pressed herself back against the door, staring up at him nervously in the dark. She hadn’t expected this. He could see it on her face.

“You want to get out of this city. I need a guide. If you intend to travel with my knights, you will abide by my terms.” Her brow knit at this and she sounded startled and a bit breathless.  
“What?”  
“I will take you with us. I expect you to obey commands and be as little nuisance as—“ she cut him off, leaning forward a bit and invading his space, making Kylo lean slightly backwards in turn.  
“I am your _guide_ , ser! Begging your pardon but _you_ are the one who will need to listen to m—“  
“You are a liability if I take you from this city the way you are suggesting, unless you are putting forward that I bargain with your new owner--” He was growling, leaning back towards her now and forcing her to stand to him or shrink back. She shook her head quickly and went pale in the dim light instead.  
“--That won’t work, we need to leave _now_!”

He paused.  
“What? It’s far too late for any travel…” She shook her head adamantly.  
“I travel by night; we can leave now and make Hesh in two nights’ time!” An image, suddenly, faint and flickering. A figure silhouetted under a sky of stars.  
“And before then? What of the days?” He countered, something in him wavering now.  
“The Lhazareen are sheep herders, they will grant us safe passage! We must leave now, tonight!” She was growing more and more impatient, until finally he nodded.

“Tonight.” He agreed finally, and saw her visibly react. “You, in turn, will be on your own once we reach Qarth. I have no intention to keep any slaves--”  
“I am a person, _my lord,_ and my name is Rey!” she spat, glaring up at him angrily. He tilted his head back slightly, looking down at her imperiously. She was brazen for someone of her station. He thought back to the fat master’s words, ‘ _You’ve enjoyed your years of freedom that I so graciously granted you!’_ He wondered about this, now.  
“...I do not keep unnecessary company, either, whether they be person or not, named or not.” Rey’s eyes narrowed and he could tell she was debating over some rebuttal, but she heaved a breath and nodded.  
“To Qarth, and then we part ways,” she exhaled the words, and glanced at the door she was pressed against. “And your companions?”  
“They will be ready.” Rey nodded.  
“Gather them and your packs. Are those your horses?”  
“No.”  
“Then they stay. Gather your knights and meet me at the eastern wall of the house.”

 

The night was warm and quiet as the knights gathered outside the walls of the manse, finding the girl Rey and staying quiet. She was now towing along a strange horse—Kylo recognized the creature as a zorse, though its colors were wrong—and immediately she was met with skepticism from the knights.  
“ _This_ is the guide you found?”  
“Better than none--”  
“Better than some of the filthy men I’ve seen come in from the waste--” It was Nuaala who stepped forward to stand next to Kylo, helm in pace just as the others had.  
“You can get us through the waste?” Nuaala sounded doubtful, but less patronizing than the others. Rey’s brow knit, and she cocked her head slightly, glancing the knights over.  
“You’re--you’re all…” she paused, sounding baffled, but then nodded. “I can get you where you need to go.” Nuaala shrugged slightly, turning to Kylo.  
“We’ve no better options at present. And I suppose I can’t argue over freeing a slave.” Kylo Ren watched Rey’s mouth formed a thin line, but she said nothing, only nodded for them all to follow her.

 

Getting out of the city proved more arduous than expected. Meereen was enormous; though at least Rey knew her way through the streets. They exited one of the smaller city gates into the hills beyond the city, but instead of breathing a sigh of relief, Rey insisted they keep moving.  
“We’ll rest in a few hours’ time,” she assured them, before adding hastily, “No fires, no light.”

The girl led the party with her zorse walking beside her, and Nuaala moved closer to Kylo Ren.  
“Didn’t take this kind to be your weakness.” It was amused more than accusing, but Kylo frowned under his helmet.  
“We needed a guide. I was told about a girl who ferried travelers all throughout the city.” Nuaala laughed quietly.

“So what was it to be, a pleasure house? She’s pretty, got a lot of spirit. I’d give her some of my coins if I was passing through. But pleasure houses don’t take kindly to her sort of mouth. She wouldn’t last long.”  
“I was only under the impression it was a new owner.” He sniffed, and Nuaala laughed again.  
“Still a man underneath there…” Kylo turned his head to the knight sharply, but Nuaala had slowed to walk with the others again, and so he exhaled an aggravated breath and continued on, trailing closer to Rey, watching the girl walk ahead of him.

It hadn’t been that sort of weakness. If he’d let his cock make his decisions, he’d have been out with the rest of them whoring, probably even still. No...this was something more.

 

He could hear the girl humming to herself after a time, and glanced upwards as he followed.  
The stars here were different than they were in Westeros; strange constellations he did not recognize. They seemed to watch him, he thought, trudging on beneath them.  
_“Still a man underneath there…”_ The words somehow brought him a strange, quiet sort of pleasure.

 

Rey stopped at the crest of a hill, waiting for the others to catch up.

“We’ll rest a bit at the foot,” She called, and even in the starlight, he swore he could see the gold in her eyes.


	8. Poe II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Resistance faces uncertainty.

“They’re caching wildfire,” the awed voice of Jessika Martell ghosted along the walls of the small private audience chamber they found themselves in with their Lannister host. Silence fell at the revelation, and for a time there wasn’t so much as the sound of a breath taken between them all. Even Bumblebee had gone quiet as if in recognition, hovering near Poe's feet.

Finally,  
“We don’t know why yet.” Their host settled back in her seat at the great desk in the room, and Poe was reminded immediately of Leia. “It could be a threat. It could also be nothing.”  
“Wildfire,” came the stunned voice of Kaydel near him, “Wildfire, and it could be _nothing_?”  
“We risk nothing by not leaping in head-first, and rushing to conclusions.”  
“We risk _everything_ by letting them continue with this!” Poe slammed a fist on the great desk, the ‘thud!’ ringing through the room. Lady Lannister in her seat only stared him down, unamused and unmoved.

“Lord Martell--or is it ‘prince’?” She kept her even gaze on his, and Poe felt his nostrils flare in aggravation, “I’ve never been quite sure how to style you Dornish--you were there, weren’t you, during the raid on Tuanul. You oversaw that, did you not?” Poe took a step back, aggravated by this statement but unable to deny it.  
“I did.”  
“And you learned of the aftermath as well, did you not?” Poe’s brow knit angrily.  
“Yes, I did.”  
“Then you understand by now, I hope, the value of proceeding with caution.” Poe felt his lips form a thin line.

Lady Amilyn Lannister was not a woman to be crossed--it was no small wonder Leia had long trusted her and kept her friendship. Currently, the lady was just as old as Lady Stark, with hair that was tinted violet, from herbs she used to care for it, Poe was told, and she’d never stopped since the shade was near the same as her own family’s house crest. Amilyn was originally of House Brax; she still wore their prancing unicorn crest on jewelry and even sometimes patterned on her gowns, despite their Lannister red and gold. She was a tall, statuesque woman with piercing eyes and a commanding presence, and Poe was not her favorite of the Resistance riders to deal with, he knew.

“I understand, my lady, that we are dealing with an enemy who is currently creating and stockpiling more and more of one of the most deadly substances in the world!” Lady Amilyn let out a long exhale, sitting back again.  
“And the Arryn girls, we’ve heard nothing more?” Jessika sighed, shaking her head in frustration.  
“They’ve been feeding us information as they can, but King’s Landing is dangerous. We don’t know who our allies are there, they’re in more danger than any of the rest of us.”

 

The room was quiet again at this, the weight of the statement sinking in. Everyone present knew this was the truth.  
“We can’t ask them to do much more than they already are. This information is important enough on its own; all we can do for the time being is wait, and listen for more.” Poe frowned, but he couldn’t argue. She was right, as infuriating as it all was. Asking Paige and Rose to do more could incriminate them, and they were in the middle of the viper’s nest at present. Bumblebee let out a low, rolling _mrrrow_ near Poe's legs, seeming just as aggravated.  
“What word have we gotten from the other houses? From Temmin? Anything at all from Lady Stark?” Kaydel shook her head this time.  
“Nothing yet. If anything comes, we’ll be sure to pass it along, but…” His cousin shook her head now, turning to look at him.  
“We’ve got to ride, Poe. We need to reach Highgarden and then ride home to Sunspear. We can’t stay here longer.” she was right, of course. It had been nearly a week, they couldn’t afford to spend more time. The longer this took, the more they risked being caught, the longer the First Order had to continue building this cache of wildfire they were working on, for whatever possible reasons they could have.

 

Lady Amilyn nodded, after a moment.

“We’ll make sure any and all information is passed along. Jessika is right, you’ve got to keep on. I will ensure your travels through the Westerlands are protected, but once you arrive in the Reach, you’ll be on your own.” Poe nodded.  
“We’ll take that. Lady Stark’s got family still with the Tyrells, I’m not afraid of riding into the Reach. They’ve given us guest right before, I have little doubt we’ll be welcomed again.” The Tyrells would welcome the Resistance. Leia’s own cousin was the current Lady, and her husband was a good man whose house supported the Resistance as well. They could reach Highgarden, stay there for a time, see if any more word from Winterfell or King’s Landing was to be had. Highgarden was safe, and far enough from King’s Landing they’d know of any threat coming long before it arrived.

For all of this to happen, however, they had to first _reach_ Highgarden.

 

They rode in the morning. Kaydel stayed behind this time, and so from Casterly Rock rode Jessika and Poe, loaded anew with rations for the road and some coin. The Reach would be days of riding, but they were two riders, and they were quick. If they had House Lannister’s protection through the West, they would be safe.

What was bothering Poe now was the thought of so much wildfire under the First Order’s control.

What could they possibly need so much for unless it was for attacking their enemies?

And their ‘enemies’ were the houses supporting the Resistance.

Leaving them to their own devices here was a mistake, he knew it was. They had spies other than the Arryn girls that were gathering information as best they could, and if these speculations were correct, they already had enough wildfire to destroy half of King’s Landing. He absently scratched Bumblebee's little round head as the cat perched in front of him in his saddle for now, thinking about all of it.  
The thought of them unleashing that on any of the great keeps throughout Westeros was terrifying; but according to their spies, most of it seemed old, and the new was slow-coming. Only the Alchemist’s Guild knew how to make wildfire, and the process took quite a while--Poe could remember listening to his father talking to Leia and old Maester Tekka years and years ago about wildfire, how there were still vats of it beneath the Red Keep even then.

_“The Alchemists claim it takes much, much longer now,”_ _Maester Tekka shook his graying head, his mouth a thin line, “They say that the spells used to create it have...lost their power.”_ _  
“‘Lost their power’?” Kes Martell’s brow knit and he spared a glance to the queen, who looked just as bewildered._  
_“Spells, Maester?” Poe was around the corner hiding with Ben and Jess to listen, the three of them curious about what this could mean._  
_“You see?! I told you there was real magic!” Ben hissed, until Jess shushed him with an elbow to the ribs._  
_“The dragons have all gone, your grace, and with them the great magic in the world.” Maester Tekka said this with a heavy sigh, as if he truly believed it to be so. Ben’s eyes had been absolutely sparkling at this, so enchanted was he with the notion. Kes shook his head, waving it off._  
_“The dragons are gone, and if wildfire takes a bit more time then all the better. The less of it here…”_

 

“Wildfire…” Jess’s voice shook Poe from his reminiscing. She shook her head, frowning. “I don’t like it, Poe.” Her braid glistened as much as her golden wrist cuffs or her amber earrings in the sunlight, and Poe nodded.  
“Neither do I. I don’t think this is smart, letting them go on as they are.”  
“I think we’re all fucked if they get enough of that stored away,” She replied, “All it’d take is one good strike.”  
“And they know exactly where to hit, too.” Poe sighed, scowling. “Any of the houses that support us would be perfect targets.” Jess glanced sidelong at him.  
“But you know they wouldn’t just go after any of the houses. They strike, they’ll strike true.”

Both of them knew this was certainly the truth. Bumblebee meowed in agreement, shaking himself out as if trying to rid himself of the bad feeling the news brought.

 

After a while, Poe broke the silence that had fallen, unable to hold it in any longer.  
“You remember…you remember that day, in the Keep--”  
“With Ben. When we spied on your father and the queen.” She finished for him, nodding, her gaze focused forward. Jess didn’t like to think about the past that way; she’d seemingly gone out of her way to avoid talking about Ben ever since his disappearance. “I remember.” Poe nodded, focusing ahead of them again.  
“You think Maester Tekka was telling the truth?”

Jess went quiet for a moment, their horses slowing some as they approached a small bridge.  
“About what?”  
“Magic. Dragons.” Out of the corner of his vision, Poe could see Jess roll her eyes.  
“The dragons are all gone. We know they were real, we saw the bones in the Red Keep. Everyone knows that.”  
“I meant that they took all the magic with them.” His cousin let out a puff of exasperated breath.  
“You sound like _he_ used to.” Poe turned to look at her now, and saw her lips twist for a moment. “Always about ‘magic’ and ‘destiny’. It’s not real, Poe. The dragons were magic. They’re gone. That’s it.” Poe took a deep breath, facing forward again and exhaling quietly, listening to the sound of hooves on stone as they passed over the small stream.

“We’ve all got to believe in _something_.”  
“Then believe in the Resistance. The gods aren’t stepping in to help any of us, old or new. We’re all we’ve got.”

Jess urged her horse on ahead, and Poe followed after a moment. Maybe she was right.


	9. Rose II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a girl must make a difficult choice.

Rose didn’t like King’s Landing.

The Red Keep was full of whispers and giggling courtiers and darkness if you turned the wrong corners, and then nothing but ridiculous opulence if you turned more wrong corners still.  
Outside of the Keep, the city stunk of shit and death, which was less intolerable than the very air itself of the Keep, but Rose was ill-at-ease going into King’s Landing even with a guard retinue. She’d never thought poorly of the less-fortunate or the smallfolk in general, but these people were brazen in a way that frightened her. They’d ridden out more than once now in the weeks they’d been here, and Jeyne and Betha had stuck close to her even inside their coach, the three of them listening to occasional shouts outside. The smallfolk here did not think well of nobility, did not have a care for who they spoke to or what they said. It was horrid and unsettling, and made her stomach turn at the thought of what could happen, were she and the girls to step out of their carriage amidst this chaos.

The gardens, however, were different. Rose could spend hours meandering through the green gardens, watching bees at work and butterflies lazily drifting about the flowering plants. There were flowers here she’d never seen before, and a lushness to the gardens that the Eyrie would never know, high in the mountains as it was.

Rose was often in the gardens if she could manage it; Paige was frequently called upon to attend court, and so while Jeyne and Betha had found other young ladies to busy themselves with during these times, Rose allowed herself time outside, bringing bread for the birds and scraps from their meals for the cats that sometimes made their way into the Keep’s walls. By now, it was as if every animal in the Red Keep knew Rose--the cats came right up to her, the dogs did not growl or bark at her, the horses nosed her for treats and nose-rubbings, and even the birds seemed to flock to her outside. It was the only thing really keeping her sane here, she thought quite often. Paige was stronger than she was by far; Rose knew she couldn’t abide sitting through court or public audiences, but Paige saw to her expected duties without qualm.

Paige also, however, was the one who would be quite possibly entering a marriage soon--Rose was hoping they would manage to think of something, manage to find some reason or saving grace to prevent that from happening, but so far they had not come across anything. The wildfire was an uncertain rumor, and Paige hadn’t even been able to tell Rose where she’d heard such an ominous thing. She knew her sister was being cautious, but somehow being in this city was changing things.  
Paige was rarely in their apartments anymore. It had been put forward, Rose learned, that Paige may be married to Lord Hux himself, and that discovery had made Rose’s stomach turn. She’d clenched her fists in her gown, remembering the man’s frighteningly cold eyes.  
_ I won’t let that happen, Pae-pae, _ she’d vowed silently,  _ I won’t let them do such a thing to you!  
_ But at the moment, she had no idea how she would be able to ensure she could keep that vow.

  
  


They were being monitored, as well, it seemed.  
Guards trailed them everywhere. They were assigned maids from the First Order’s ranks--Paige advised Rose, Jeyne, and Betha to be careful with their words, from then on. They could not trust anyone here.

Rose was returning from the garden one afternoon when there was a rough arm pulling her around a corner and into a small, dark corridor. She gasped, made to scream, but there was a hand over her mouth before she could. Rose felt herself start to shake, immediately trying to wrench herself free, but there was a voice in her ear.  
“Your sister needs to speak with you. You must remain silent--I would hate to bring you to her in restraints.” Rose went still, eyes wide in the dark. The voice was familiar, but the man was hooded, so she couldn’t be certain if she was right about his identity. After a moment, he removed his hand from her mouth, and Rose kept her voice low and quiet.  
“I don’t know who you mean, ser. I have no sister.” A precaution, one she was skilled at exercising now. The man seemed to understand.  
“I am a friend of your cause. It’s best we don’t speak more until we’ve reached our destination, though I applaud your discretion.” Rose was hesitant, but finally she nodded, and followed her new companion into the dim hall.

 

She kept up with the path they took. She’d learned long ago to pay attention to her surroundings; she and Paige knew every way in and out of the Eyrie, and Rose had every path to and from the Vale memorized. If she needed to, she knew she could find this place again. 

They were somewhere deep and dank, the air old and damp. A torch glowed ahead, bright now in Rose’s eyes that had already adjusted to the lack of light.  
There were shapes looming around her, some of them enormous. She felt strangely ill-at-ease in this place, whatever it was, as if something huge was watching her in the darkness. As they approached the torch ahead, Rose could see a figure holding it--and the minute the figure saw her, it drew back its hood and there stood Paige in the dim light.

Rose exhaled a relieved breath, drifting closer to her sister.  
“Paige,” she breathed, and Paige nodded at Rose’s companion.  
“Thank you--Rose are you all right?” Rose nodded.  
“I’m fine. What’s going on?” She glanced around, noticing the shapes starting to catch the torchlight. “Paige...where are we?” Paige raised her torch in response, glancing around them at the light flickering and bouncing back.  
“The cellars.”

All around them were  _ skulls _ \--some of them small, but one loomed beyond Paige in the shadows that made Rose feel a chill of fear in her. In the dark they loomed, massive and lurking like live beasts; the firelight took some of the fright from her, but did not burn away all of the darkness in the room, and so the skulls still held more shadows than Rose might have liked. They were dead, all of them, only bones...but there was something ancient and hungry about them that made her feel on edge. They were only bone, but they were somehow watching her. Rose did not think they welcomed her presence.

“The old Targaryen dragons,” came the voice of Rose’s companion, removing his hood. Rose’s eyes went wide as Varys glanced around, a somewhat pinched expression on his pale, round face. “And some others, I imagine. King Harwin was not overly fond of them in the throne room. The Queen had them moved here, so they might still be kept safe.” Rose gazed over rows of gleaming black teeth, some longer than her forearm, and felt her skin prickle. Paige called her attention away again.  
“Do you remember the way here, Rose?” Rose nodded.  
“Yes. What’s going on, Paige?” she turned a bit to glance at the Spider, dubious expression on her face. “Are you sure we can trust him?” Varys only giggled.  
“Clever. You’re paying attention here, that’s good.” Paige nodded.  
“We’ve gotten word that Poe and Jessika Martell have reached Highgarden,” she trailed off slightly, “And that they’ve received word that the Dornish borders are too closely guarded for now. They’re staying in the Reach until things are safer. Poe may be a Martell prince, but there’s no need to risk anything right now.” Rose nodded, digesting this. So the Martells would stay in Highgarden longer...what did that mean for them? Varys cleared his throat.  
“This is a problem, however, since one of them was to leave Sunspear to sail for Essos.” Rose’s brow went up.  
“Essos?” Paige nodded.  
“There have been...rumors, that Lucerys Targaryen may be on Essos. If he is, Lady Stark wants him found.” 

 

Silence fell.  
Rose was thinking this over--Lucerys Targaryen...he was Leia Stark’s twin brother. Did the former queen see the tide turning if her brother were to return to the fold? Or did she simply want to see her brother alive again before winter finally came again?  
“I have heard my birds sing of someone reappearing in Qarth who could be of some assistance to us in finding Lady Stark’s wayward brother--however, someone must go to Qarth in order to procure her help.” Varys’ voice broke the silence. Paige nodded, sighing.  
“The Martells were supposed to be the ones to sail. Now they cannot.”

Rose thought this over before shaking her head slightly.  
“Paige I can’t leave you here alone.” Paige stepped forward to rest a hand on Rose’s arm lightly. Her expression was imploring, Rose thought, reminded her of the night Karé had come to the Eyrie.  
“Rose someone has to go. I cannot leave King’s Landing, not now. Jeyne and Betha won’t be able to do what you can. And with you gone, they won’t be able to hold you against mother and father if anything should happen. They won’t have both of us, you see?” Paige’s hand slid to take one of Rose’s, and Rose swore in the torchlight she saw fear in her sister’s eyes. “You have to go, Rose. If they marry me off the way they intend to, I’ll be a captive here. I will do what I must, but we cannot both be trapped here.” Rose’s brow knit as she watched Paige.

“Something’s happening, isn’t it. You’re afraid of something.” Paige’s hand tightened around hers.  
“I don’t know, little sister. There are things taking place right now that could mean doom for all of us.”  
“But if that’s so then how can I--”  
“You must go, Rose! For the sake of our family, for the sake of the Resistance--for the sake of Westeros. Someone must go!” Rose swallowed hard. “Someone must do this. And if you can, then you could help save _ all  _ of us!” Paige took her shoulder, leaning close. “You can be a hero, Rose. I know that you can. Know right from wrong, don’t run away when it gets hard. This will be hard, but I know that you can do this.”

Rose wanted to believe that Paige was right, but the ancient dragons around her seemed to whisper as if they all knew something that Rose did not, and she was suddenly very, very afraid.

 

Varys stepped closer to the girls now.  
“I can deliver you safely from the Red Keep--there is a ship and a captain I trust, but you would need to be to the docks in two days’ time.” Rose looked from the Spider to Paige and exhaled slowly.  
“Sailing….to Qarth?” Paige nodded.  
“To find Maz Kanata.”


	10. Rey II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which discoveries are made.

She’d relented to letting them travel by day until they reached the waste. The knights weren’t weak by any means, but adjusting to the sleeping change was troublesome. Lhazar, at least, was pastures and grass--nowhere near as unforgiving as the Red Waste. They’d gotten through the Khyzai Pass with enough ease and then passed Hesh the same; raiders of any kind tended to avoid travellers that looked quite so well armed as their party did.

Actually, Rey was impressed with this; they’d all brought their own weapons, and had made no qualms about carrying anything as they walked. Her zorse carried a few packs, nonetheless, but the knights were, in fact, decent company. More than that--they were _enjoyable_ company, even. The group of them laughed and joked, liked to learn songs from Rey as they walked, even if their leader was...not quite the same.

 

Their leader was an entirely different person. Kylo Ren, he called himself; Rey had been wary of him since their first interaction, but he kept his distance. He walked at the head of their group more often than not, unless the knights were grouped around Rey to talk, and then he flanked them.  
Almost unsettlingly, they’d all left their helmets on the entirety of the trip thus far. Rey was beginning to wonder if she would ever see his face--even that night when they had first met, he had remained hidden from her.

She swore to herself she’d seen it in dreams, however--and _those_ dreams were coming almost every night now. She hadn’t had them in some time, not so vivid nor so frequent as this. _Dreams_ ...dreams that felt more like visions.  
_Fire and smoke, casting great, terrible shadows that swallowed the world, the sound of wings beating the air. A red sun eclipsed by the dark, drowning the land in burning light. A star that bled in the daylight. A sword of fire reflected in eyes like the night sky…_ she woke from them with a heaviness in her bones and the taste of smoke on her tongue, and now they came so much more clearly she wondered what had changed. She believed, quietly and hesitantly, that perhaps it was the sudden appearance of these knights, and their strange master.

  
  


Lhazar was green and rolling. The landscape was grassy and seemed to go on forever as they entered it, but Rey knew differently.  
Walking over the grazing plains was fairly easy going. They passed herds of sheep and goats, some of the herders as well. The Lhazar weren’t what she was worried about, however.

Unkar would have someone after her. The further from Meereen they got the safer she was. Even if he wanted her back, she was still just a slave in his eyes--no one would risk the Waste for a slave.  
There were other threats as well, however; but that one was first and foremost on her mind. She wasn’t going back, not now. Going back to Meereen meant death, now, or worse. She’d seen slaves that had tried to run away before, she’d seen their fates. Men were one thing, but the women… Rey swallowed, steeled herself as she walked. She would not go back. She would not be captured. She was free now. She would get this lot to Qarth, and from there…

Her fingers closed around a coin of iron, tucked away in a satchel within her clothes. Silently she repeated the words to herself, as if afraid of losing them.

  
  


“You’re a scrappy thing!” Krytha was the one to say this. She was the largest of them in bulk, if not the tallest. Rey had been stunned the night they left the city, but now it was almost empowering knowledge: all of the Knights of Ren were _women_ .  
Krytha was the bulkiest; thick with muscle and broad of shoulder, Rey could see scars marring her pale skin all over when they stopped to rest, to eat, and all of the black layers came off. The helmets very conspicuously stayed in place, but Rey had gotten used to that by then.

They’d stopped for a time to eat and get their bearings as they were nearing Lhazosh, and while the others had stripped down and were seeing to their weapons, Kylo Ren sat on his own, and Nuaala was the one to approach Rey. The second-in-command was the tallest of the women, nearly as tall as Kylo, with a slimmer figure than Krytha and more slender muscle than bulk. She had scarring almost everywhere that Rey could see--but while some was at random, other marks were tattoos, and some of the scars looked patterned, deliberate.  
“We’re getting close to the Waste,” she remarked, standing on the grassy hillside beside Rey. Rey nodded.  
“Mm. Few days now.” A wind rolled over the two of them, and Rey watched it pass over the grass sprawling out before her.  
“It’s already getting too hot for all these bloody layers,” Nuaala heaved a sigh, and Rey glanced up at her, “Can’t see us surviving in these clothes and these damned helmets.” Rey nodded at this, her expression grim.  
“We’ll travel by night, but nights can be cold, too. The Waste is a strange place.” She exhaled quietly, “Don’t know what you’re all hiding your faces from, but whatever it is can’t be all the way out here.” Nuaala only snorted.  
“Everywhere is strange, girl.”

  
  


They had passed Lhazosh--Solea and Asteria had gone into the city to trade for more food and water before they reached the Waste, and as they had, Rey had remained outside the city with the others. She couldn’t be seen, not yet.

Once the knights had returned, they’d all been on their way again; the peaceful day had trickled into another, but their uneventful journey came to a halt that afternoon.  
“Riders ahead,” Mellife had called to the others as they crested a low hill. Rey’s blood had run cold until the knight had continued, “A pack of them. Looks like a raid.”

The group came to a stop at the hilltop, surveying the scene below. It was a raid, Mellife had been right--but these were not Meereenese, these were Dothraki.  
Rey exhaled, nodded quietly.  
“We keep moving. Don’t stop, don’t attract attention. Just walk.” They could already hear the echoes of the chaos below, and the knights all turned to her as she passed through them to lead them down the hillside.  
“What is this?”  
“They’re raiding for slaves. Just follow me.”  
“Slaves?” Nuaala was next to her after a moment, her voice curious, but not much else. “You don’t want to stop them?” Rey shook her head.  
“There is no ‘stopping’ them. Even if we stopped one raid, you think it’d stop the whole of the Dothraki people?” Nuaala nodded slowly, the others following Rey through the grass. “They’ll do as they’ve always done. Raiding and slaving; the Lhazareen are weak to them.” She kept her gaze forward, “And we’re outnumbered and outhorsed. Not good odds.” Behind her, she heard the voice she knew to be the knight called Solea.  
“Could use the exercise. Could use some horses, too.” Rey didn’t turn, didn’t stop.  
“We keep walking. You take on a rider, you take on the khalasar. I don’t know whose this is, I won’t risk fighting with them.”  
They passed closer than Rey might have liked to the raid, but things seemed lively enough there that they wouldn’t be noticed.

She was right, up to a certain point.

 

It was her zorse, in the end, that called attention to them. There was a snake--before any of the others saw it, it had startled the striped mount, and when the animal reared, it lost one of their packs, whinnying loudly at the clattering sound that made. Rey sprung into action immediately, rushing for the snake without a second thought. Snapping it’s neck was quick and simple, and as she tossed the carcass to the grass she hissed at the others hurriedly.  
“The pack, take it and keep moving, quickly!” She would normally have taken the snake with them, but there was no time now, she was trying to keep them moving--  
There were hoofbeats on them before she knew it.

The riders had them circled before any of them could move, and their small party faced the bloodriders with hands itching for weapons. Rey stood at the front of them, trying to see if any of these riders were familiar to her. It wasn’t until the horses stopped and their khal came riding up that Rey knew who she was dealing with.

Kaggo was a bloodrider and member of Khal Heqo’s khas, the last time she’d seen him. Now, he rode a horse painted in red and wore more bells in his great braid than she remembered.  
“Shierak Inavva!” He called from his horse with a laugh, and Rey gave a nod, remaining quiet. The knights had fallen silent behind her, but she felt the wariness of the group as the horselord walked his stallion up to her. “The sun is strange on you!” He spoke in Dothraki, and Rey answered in kind.  
“You wear more bells now, Kaggo.”  
“Kaggo is Khal now!” He laughed triumphantly, beating his chest with a broad fist, “Heqo has gone to the nightlands!” Rey took a breath through her nose, nodding.  
“May he ride with his ancestors,” she offered, glancing at the riders around him. They were all watching the knights carefully, until one motioned with an arakh.  
“You travel with demons, Shierak Inavva. Why do they hide their faces from the sun?”

Rey didn’t turn her head.  
“I do not ask my travelers these questions, Menko. Are you afraid?” She knew these people, she knew that they knew her, and they knew she was not weak, nor would she cower from them. The other bloodriders laughed, and Menko beat his chest as Kaggo had.  
“I fear no one, Shierak Inavva! Not man, not demons!” He proclaimed loudly, and Rey nodded.  
“Then do not fear them, and let us be on our way.” She gestured to where more of the riders had managed to gather up and were now binding together the captives they were taking. “You have what you came here for. If you want gifts we will give them.” Kaggo was the one who answered, however.  
“No gifts, this time. I feel generous this day, we found good slaves among the Lamb Men. I will give you a gift, instead.” Rey’s brow went up at this. The Dothraki did not give gifts this way, not without something in return.  
“A gift?”  
“Jaharo’s khaleesi is dead. I hear he is looking for you!” Rey went still.  
“Looking for me?”  
“He wants a khaleesi. His riders say he has sworn to the Mother of Mountains he will have you. He says he has seen it, that you will bear a great khal the Stallion Who Mounts the World. Jaharo thinks he is that great khal.”

A pause. Behind her, the knights were all standing still and silent, as if they understood.  
“I am not Dothraki.”  
“You are Shierak Inavva. You are welcome in our khalasars, by our fires.” Rey was quiet. Jaharo had been saying such things for years now, but Rey knew it to be in jest. Why then, was Kaggo here telling her this? Before she could reply again Kaggo laughed, nudging his stallion around. “If Jaharo does not take you, then I will!” his riders laughed with him, turning their horses now as well. “You are guided by the ancestors, Shierak Inavva,” he gestured to the sky, and she knew he meant the stars. “The Great Stallion brings you to us, he will have a son on you by a great khal! Jaharo believes it is him, but I will ride into the Waste when the Lamb Men are gone.” Rey took a deep breath and swallowed hard, her eyes following the men on horses as they turned to ride away.  


They were walking again when finally Asteria spoke up from behind her.  
“You spoke to them! That was Dothraki?” Rey nodded, Kaggo’s words still weighing on her mind.  
“Yes.”  
“You one of them?” It was Krytha, this time, brash but curious.  
“No.”  
“The Masters taught you that?”  
“No.” A beat of silence, and then it was Kylo Ren’s voice next to her.  
“You taught yourself. Because of your traveling.” Rey glanced up at his black helm, nodding.  
“I did. Easier to trade with them if you can speak with them.” He was quiet, never turning his head, but Rey felt as if he were looking at her all the same.  
“Will they be trouble for us?” Rey took a breath, and shook her head as they trekked onward.  
“Not today.”

  


That night, they continued their journey into the night. The Waste was close enough they would reach it by dawn, and then they would continue traveling at night from there.

The moon was peaking in the night sky when they stopped to make a small fire and rest a while. The knights busied themselves preparing for the next leg of their journey as Rey watched the fire, but her attention was drawn as they began removing their layers of clothing, and then, in their lowest, thinnest clothes, they gathered near her by the fire.  
“Figure you’re ready to put faces to names, eh?” Mellife’s voice came as she tugged her helmet off of her head. She was the shortest of their group, stocky and plucky, and her face was almost masculine in its broad features, but they suited her, Rey thought. Her hair looked red in the firelight, cropped short and braided back from her forehead in small rows.  
Krytha was next. Her helmet came off and out of it fell yellow braids like ropes; Krytha was muscled and broad-shouldered but feminine of face, with clear blue eyes ringed in dirt from her helmet.  
Siv was after her. Scarred and missing an eye, Siv had wrapped her braided brown hair around her head in place of an eyepatch.  
Tarkka stepped forward, brown skin marred with lighter scars. Her black hair was cropped close to her head and she had a pretty face, a little smirk on her round lips.  
Solea followed her. Slim and sinewy, she was nearly bald, save for a curtain of hair hanging to the side of her head and gathered in a short, thick, black braid. Her eyes were almond-shaped, and she looked almost Dothraki, but Rey did not mention this.  
Asteria was next. Slender and dark of skin, her hair was coarse and wound in two thick braids around the crown of her head that were tied with blue-painted leather. Her eyes were startlingly gold. She had the look of a Summer Islander, Rey wondered if she had ever been there.

Nuaala was last; the tallest of them, she came to the front of the group, shaking her head as she freed it from her helmet. Rey swallowed softly. Her tattoos, scars, continued over her pale brown skin up her neck and to her face. Somehow, they only seemed to make her strangely beautiful, Rey thought, lines of them running over her lips, and up into pale hair. Rey noticed, now, that Nuaala had patches of pale white skin amidst the darker tan, and her hair was a strange mixture of white and gold, wound into two ropes that hung down her back. Her eyes were ringed in pale skin and white-lashed, making them even more bright--a gold so deep and vibrant it seemed orange.  
“So now you see us,” she gave Rey a little grin, tucking her helmet under her arm. Krytha tossed her helmet to the ground.  
“Feels good to have that fucking thing off for once,” she griped, and Solea turned to Kylo Ren, giving a little incline of her head.  
“Gonna show your face, _master_?” Their leader’s only response was turning his covered head towards them, and Rey felt something strange in her chest, something tight and fluttering at the same time. Would he take off his helmet? Why did it matter--he’d barely even spoken to her this entire trip, why did she care if he did or not?

Nuaala shrugged, nodding back at the fire and turning away with the others before casting a glance back at Kylo.  
“May as well. Nobody out here to see any of us. Feels good to just breathe in the air, Kylo.”

 

Rey was left standing there watching him on her own, once the knights had walked away. The firelight behind her danced over the black metal of his helmet, and after a moment, he turned his head towards her suddenly enough to make her breath catch. She hadn’t realized she’d been standing there staring until then.  
“Is that what you’re waiting for?”

His voice was low, monotone. Rey took a deep breath before finally looking away.  
“Your choice. I was only...lost in my thoughts.” He stood, and Rey swallowed, feeling him approaching her slowly.  
“You want to know who you’re dealing with.” Rey’s mouth formed a line as she looked back up at him defiantly.  
“Should I not? Roaming around never showing your face--like you’re just some creature in a mask--”   
“Not if we’re paying you. I hardly think it should matter.” Rey’s brow knit and she turned on her heel.  
“Then leave it on. Don’t care.” Before she could get even three paces away, she heard him behind her.  
“You do. You don’t hide your emotions well.” Rey stopped in her tracks, then spun around to snap at him, but was met with something that silenced her.

His face.

His helmet fell to the grass, and all of her retorts died on her tongue.  
His features were strangely soft; a prominent nose, thick lips. He had a heavy brow over hooded eyes and a head of thick, dark hair that hung to his shoulders--and looking at his face...Rey felt something strange, something that made her skin prickle. The firelight played over his face but his eyes...Rey felt her mouth go dry.  
 _Fire reflected in eyes like the night sky…  
_ Who was this man?

He stepped closer, and Rey stood her ground.  
“You look surprised. Am I the ‘creature’ you expected?” Rey exhaled, looking away. Without the mask, his voice was...haltingly soft.  
“You...you look like someone...someone I’ve seen before.” She got out. “That’s all.” She turned away again, needing to look elsewhere, needing to go to the fire, to breathe, and she felt his hand on her arm.

He was close now, close enough she could see the reflection of the fire in his dark eyes, could count the moles on his face.  
“What do you mean?” Rey felt her heart beating quickly in her chest, and she shook her head slowly.  
“I--I mean nothing, _ser_ \--I’m probably--I’m probably just mistaken.” She forced the last words out, and he released her. Rey swallowed, looking at the grass for a long moment, though she could feel his eyes on her. Silence fell, but she couldn’t bring herself to walk away just yet.  
Finally,  
“The horselord. Did he threaten you today?”

Rey blinked. She returned her gaze to his face to find his expression unreadable, and shook her head slightly.  
“No. Kaggo--Khal Kaggo--was...passing along information.”  
“What was that he called you?” Rey took a breath.  
“Shierak Inavva,” she replied, “It’s not the proper way to say it, in their tongue, but it was one of the first things I learned to say. They thought it was funny, I think.” she looked up at the starry sky overhead, “It means ‘star sister’.”  
When Rey looked back at him, she found he was staring at her, the strangest look in his dark eyes before he turned and strode away.

  


They reached the edge of the Waste nearing dawn. The party was tired, Rey knew, and the approaching day was slowly making the air hotter as the red rocks loomed ahead of them.

Rey gestured out ahead, towards a rock outcropping.  
“There’s a shelf of rock there, we can camp beneath it. We take watch in shifts. I’ll take first; rest up--once dusk falls, we move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to [seek council](https://twitter.com/binarysvnrise) or [send a raven](https://shierak-inavva.tumblr.com/)


	11. Rose III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a girl must run away to fight.

“I feel uneasy about this, Paige.” Rose was pale-faced and gazing at her sister in the dark cellars again. They’d taken to meeting here when they needed to speak privately, and Rose had an uneasy feeling about _this_ place, too. All of this, really, it just seemed…  
Unnerving.

Surrounded by the ancient, eyeless dragons, Rose felt on edge. Each time they arrived here, she felt on edge--there were eyes that could not see and ears that could not hear and she felt them all spying, as if any one of these long-dead creatures might betray them to the First Order.  
Paige was adamant as ever, if somewhat more weathered than she had been. Never did she let anyone see her falter, never did her mask so much as shift--and the nobles at court saw her as one of them, another courtier, another pretty highborn girl sent to curry favor with the king.  
Now, Paige let the smiles and the sweet words fade, facing Rose in the torchlight.  
“Rose, you can do this. I know you can do this.” She took Rose’s hand, clasping it between her own, looking her in the eyes, “ _You_ know you can do this. You are a heroine, Rose--like one of the ladies from songs. Like Queen Nymeria--you can save the Resistance, Rose. You can save countless lives. Be the hero I know you can be. Know right from wrong, don’t run away when it gets hard.” Rose frowned slightly.  
“This seems a great deal like running away.”  
“Rose one of us _must_ go! No one here knows who you are. You can escape this place, you can ensure that the First Order is brought down; we’ve told you what you must do.” For a moment, Paige sounded so desperate and angry that Rose took a step back in surprise.

Paige’s expression softened and she exhaled quietly, stepping forward to pull her younger sister into a tight embrace.  
“Rose...I don’t want to let you go.” She confessed, soft and sad against Rose’s dark hair. She shook her head, and Rose felt damp on her scalp, wrapping her arms around Paige and feeling her chest tighten, her heart clench. “I don’t want to risk you like this--I would go in your place, I swear it by the Seven. I would go in your place if I could.” Rose’s arms squeezed Paige tight.  
“I know--I know, Pae-pae, I know that you would…” Her voice was straining, heavy with tears, but then Paige withdrew again, her eyes gleaming in the low firelight.  
“You must go, Rose. You’ve got to hurry. Let Varys get you out of the Keep, and sail to Qarth.” She took a deep breath, running her hands down Rose’s arms. “Find Maz Kanata. Find Lucerys Targaryen. I know you can do this.” Rose took Paige’s hands in her own, holding them tight and managing a short nod.  
“I’ll do it.” She squeezed her sister’s fingers, swallowing hard, feeling a mounting sense of fear, and of sadness in her. “And I’ll come back, and we’ll go home, Pae-pae.” Paige smiled at her and nodded as she squeezed her hands back, offering one more tight hug before withdrawing an old medallion on a leather cord from within the collar of her gown. Rose did the same, finding her matching half of the pair the two of them had, running her thumb over the pressed designs in the old, pale gold.

“We’ll go home. We’ll climb the Mountains of the Moon together again, and ride into the Vale like we always do. We’ll bring Jeyne and Betha, and we’ll all go home.”

  


She had gotten commoner’s clothes from the servants. Her blue silk gowns and soft Myrish lace had been traded for brown sackcloth and harsh linen, quick to move and travel in. She was dressed like a boy, her dark hair knotted back to look shorter, though loose strands still hung around her face.

Varys was not where he should have been.  
Rose was already apprehensive, waiting a moment or two longer than she knew she should have near the throne room. Why wasn’t he there?  
She waited a moment more.  
There was nothing--no sound, no movement, not even an echo in the halls. Rose swallowed, pressing herself against the stone wall as if to disappear into it, to hide. There was no one--something was wrong, why wasn’t the Spider here, why hadn’t he come, was this a trap? Had she been lied to? And Paige--  
“Lady.” There was a hushed whisper, just behind her from around the stone column she’d pressed herself against. Rose nearly leapt out of her skin, but it was a child, a servant.  
“Wh...what are you talking abou--”  
“Lady Arryn. You wait for Lord Varys.” Rose’s eyes went wide.  
“Who are you?”  
“He is in a Small Council meeting. It was sudden. You must go.” Rose blinked, her eyes narrowing.  
“What--but I--”  
“There is not time for questions. You must go. The docks. Find the grey ship. The new captain, all alone. He will take you to the great city.”  
Rose opened her mouth to speak but the servant child was gone.

Her heart was racing. Why had Varys been called into a meeting this way; he’d told her he would get her to the docks. How had he not anticipated this?  
Footsteps.  
Rose jolted to alert, racing for a small alcove nearby to hide. There were enough footfalls she knew it must be a group, but who, and for what purpose, she did not know.  
“She could be anywhere near here. Lady Arryn reported she had not seen the girl all morning,” The voice of a guard. From her hiding place, Rose’s eyes widened. ‘Lady Arryn’--they meant Paige. She listened as they passed, her heart pounding in her chest.  
“She can’t have gotten far. She doesn’t know King’s Landing--have the guards ride out and find her. We can’t let that girl leave this city.”

Rose felt her throat go tight. _They mean me, they are talking about me,_ she thought, terrified. They were looking for _her_ , trying to stop her from leaving--how could they know?! How could they know she was planning to escape, what did that mean?!  
The child--the servant--had to have been one of Varys’ ‘Little Birds’. If he’d sent word to her to leave, then could this have been his doing?  
She was short of breath and felt sweat beading on her forehead as her heart beat against her chest. She had to get out. She had to make it to the docks.  
She didn’t know how, from here.

As quickly as she could, Rose made for the paths she knew. If she could maybe get to the kitchens...she could possibly get out through there.  
She kept herself as quiet and unseen as possible, hurrying to try and lose herself in the gardens. She skirted the soldiers more than once, but then finally she was outside, racing through an open hall for the lush green of the castle gardens--until she was grabbed by the arm and roughly pulled back into the dim halls of the Red Keep.

Rose’s heart nearly stopped--her eyes went wide and she felt herself freeze up, finding herself face to face with a lone Stormtrooper. The pale armor, the helmet, but this soldier was alone, and had stopped once they’d gotten back inside and out of sight.  
“You’re the one they’re all looking for, aren’t you.” The voice was hushed, and Rose felt like she could hardly breathe, let alone form words.  
“I’m--I’m nobody--let me go--I haven’t done anything wrong, I don’t know what you’re talk--”  
“You’re Lady Arryn’s cousin, right? You’re trying to get out of the Red Keep.” With a rushed, slightly shaking hand, the soldier removed his helmet, revealing a young man that looked to be near her own age. He had the dark skin of someone from the south, or from Essos, even, but spoke like a Westerosi. His eyes were dark and his hair was cropped short, and he looked nervous. “I can get you out of here.”

Rose blinked. It was all she could think to do, her mind going blank at the proposal.  
Was this a trap? He was a Stormtrooper, wasn’t he? Her brow knit.  
“I don’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about--”  
“Your cousin is part of the Resistance, isn’t she? She’s trying to get you out of here to help them, right? Varys--Varys is helping you two, right?” Rose’s eyes searched his face for something--anything--that might have told her he was lying. All she found was haste, and fear.  
“I...how do I know I can trust you? You’re a Stormtrooper. You’re one of them.”  
“I--you don’t, I suppose. But I want to get out of here, just like you.”

This surprised her. She swallowed, trying to still her breathing as she felt his grasp on her arm loosen.  
“Why?” She narrowed her eyes, watching him scrutinizingly.  
“What--I--”  
“Why do you want to get out of here? Why do you want to help me?” The man let go of her arm, exhaling deeply and stepping back.  
“I’ve lived here all my life--they found me when I was a child, raised me to fight, but I don’t want to be part of this. Taking children from families, burning villages...I don’t know where you’re going, but it’s got to be better than here.” Rose took a long, slow breath, listening to him.  
“Do you swear to me I can trust you?” The man met her eyes, and nodded after a moment.  
“I swear.” Rose’s eyes were hard.  
“Swear it by the gods.”  
“I swear by the Seven. By--by the old, and the new. I swear you can trust me.” Rose felt as if she should doubt him more, felt as if she should make this harder, shouldn’t give him her trust, but something told her he wasn’t playing her false.  
“I need to get to the docks.” he nodded quickly.  
“I can get us there. Do you--do you have a ship?” Rose nodded.  
“Varys--Lord Varys--told me there was a captain there waiting. We’ve got to get there as fast as we can.” he nodded again, glancing around the hall before replacing his helmet.  
“Come on. Follow me, keep your head down.”

They made it out of the Keep, just as he’d promised. Rose kept her face downturned, kept up with him as they walked. The soldiers didn’t bother stopping one of their own, and so they managed to leave, making it to the stables and taking a single horse to ride to the docks. Rose sat behind him and her mouth formed a thin line the entirety of their ride as she was pressed against his back and holding his waist to stay on the horse. If he sensed her tension, he said nothing--but he did seem rather rigid as they rode.  
“Hey!” She hissed over the clatter of hooves, and he turned his head slightly, “You’ve got to get rid of this armor--you can’t wear it at the docks if we’re leaving!”  
And so, in a trail of clanging metal, the pale armor that marked him as a Stormtrooper was cast, piece by piece, to the ground through River Row as they rode for the Mud Gate. By the time they reached it, Rose was a bit dirtier from the ride and the soldier looked like any other trader or shiphand returning to the docks, clad in plain, dark leathers and cloth.

 

The docks were busy in the mid-morning sun. Fishermen were selling their catches and traders were setting out their wares, dickering with the dockmaster and seeing cargo loaded and unloaded. Rose and her companion dismounted and left their horse with one of the dockhands.  
“Who is it we’re looking for?” he asked as they made their way down the lines of ships. Rose took a breath.  
“I don’t...I don’t know, for certain.” he stopped in his tracks, making her nearly trip as he rounded on her.  
“You don’t _know_?” Rose looked defensive.  
“Varys was supposed to have been the one leading me here! He knew the captain!” The former Stormtrooper ran a dark hand over his face.  
“And you know nothing?” She paused, remembering.  
“There was--there was one of Varys’ spies. They said…a ‘grey ship’ with a ‘new captain, all alone’. But that’s all I know.” The soldier nodded some, mulling this over.  
“There can’t be many grey ships. We’ll find the ship, then.” Rose nodded, feeling her determination renewed by this as they set off at a quick pace, scanning the ships.  
“Right. The captain...the captain would know who we are--or, well, who I am, if Varys was having him take me…” The soldier glanced down at her.  
“Where is it you’re going?” Rose’s jaw set, her eyes focused on the hulls of ships.  
“Essos. Qarth.”  
“Qarth? Why Qarth?”  
“I have to find someone there.” they continued in silence for a moment.

“The king...the king sent his Knights of Ren to Essos, some weeks ago.” He mused quietly, and Rose glanced up at him, now.  
“The Knights of Ren?”  
“His...his attack dogs. He sends them when there’s something important, or...well...bloody to be done.” Rose’s brow knit.  
“He sent them to Essos?” The man shook his head.  
“That’s all I know, from what I heard around the Keep. I don’t know why. They left by ship weeks ago. Ah--” he stopped them, and they both turned to see the strangely greyed wood of a ship peeking from behind another. Rose gasped.  
“The grey ship!”  
“That must be it--” They took off down the docks, dodging workers and sailors until they skidded to a halt in front of a vessel that could mildly be described as ‘aging’.

 

It was pale wood that looked almost as if it were from weirwood trees, greyed and weathered from years at sea. They could see a captain’s cabin, past the dark, blackwood mast with its hoisted sail, the cabin boasting a front of glass panes set in more of the dark wood, the glass dingy and salted over. There was rigging and metal fixtures that looked as if they might have been silver, once, and on the hull was painted a very old and very damaged crest in white, the paint so chipped and flaking that they couldn’t make out what it was supposed to be anymore.  
The two of them stared up at the old ship with mixed expressions on their faces until a noise from behind them made them both jump.

A man--he looked almost more bear than man, but still clearly a man, to be sure--was fixing them with a beady gaze in a face that was nearly entirely obscured by thick, russet hair. A head of long hair hung loose around the man’s head, flowing down to a full beard and mustachio that led from there to a broad and solid body draped in dark linens. His arms, where visible, were covered in the same thick hair, and a belt hung across his chest, displaying a small array of thin blades and leading to a dark leather pouch at his hip. Most impressively, however, was his height--he stood at least seven feet tall, if not more, towering over the two of them and anyone else that might have passed. Rose stared up at him with wide eyes, and went pale when he opened his mouth to speak in a voice that was so heavily accented she could barely make out what he was saying, though she managed to catch the jist.

“I--are you the captain?” A nod of agreement and a gruff reply. Rose felt her heartbeat pick up. “I--I’m here to sail to Essos. Is this...are you…” She swallowed, watching the enormous man squint down at her dubiously. “I was supposed to be escorted here by Lord Varys, but he was called away.” this got the man’s attention, and he cocked his head at her slightly, replying with something that sounded like he was asking for clarification. Rose drew herself up and steeled her gaze.  
“I am Rose Arryn, Paige Arryn’s sister and daughter of Lord Osric Arryn, Warden of the East and Defender of the Vale. In the name of House Arryn and for the sake of the Resistance, I need passage to Qarth.” The soldier beside her had gone still and quiet, and the tall captain ahead of her finally bowed his great, hairy head before replying to her almost reverently, and then nodding for them to follow him.  
“What...what did he say?” the soldier asked in a hushed voice, keeping up with Rose as they followed the captain.  
“He said he’s the captain I was looking for.”

 

They were led on board the ship, and it was really no change in view. It was a small craft, enough for just a few hands to handle, and the captain nodded at the two of them, rumbling something else out that made Rose’s eyes widen.  
“Th--this is--then you’re--” A gruff nod from the man silenced her, and he turned to head for the ship’s mooring, readying them to leave. Rose was stunned, watching him go. Next to her, the soldier’s brow had knit as he watched the man set to work as well.  
“What’s going on?” Rose shook her head in awe.  
“This is the _Falcon_ ,” she replied in a hushed voice, “This was...this was King Harwin’s ship.”  
Silence fell over them as that revelation sunk in.  
“This...then the captain is...that was his closest friend. Another pirate that sailed with him, that helped fight against the last Targaryen--” Rose swallowed, feeling her heart tighten for some reason. She’d never met King Harwin, and she’d only met Queen Leia once, in passing. Now, King Harwin was dead. This ship...the ship they were sailing to Qarth on...had been captained once by their former king, a man who had been a pirate and fought alongside the twin children of the last Targaryen king to win freedom for Westeros. This ship was one Rose had heard of in stories, and its captain was in songs now.

 

They’d set sail not long after. As they let the captain--he was called ‘Chewie’, Rose informed--set the ship to rights, the soldier had stood facing Rose, looking at her with a new sort of appreciation in his eyes.  
“Rose Arryn, huh?” She nodded, and he grinned, the sight of it making her smile some. “You hid right under their noses.  
“My sister knew it would be easier to hide in plain sight. They never knew they had both of us.” He nodded, smiling and bowing his head.  
“My name is Finn, my lady.” Rose flushed a little at the sudden formality.  
“Please, you don’t need to call me that. Just--Just Rose is fine.” she offered him a smile back. “Thank you.” she nodded a little, “Thank you for helping me, Finn.”  


 

Rose had stood at the stern until King’s Landing was out of sight, her fist closed around her medallion as they went.  
_I’m coming back, Pae-pae. I’m coming back, and we’ll all go home. The Seven will keep you safe until then._  
In her head, the words sounded firm.   
In her eyes, however, tears had started to spill over and onto her dirty cheeks, her throat tightening as she sailed further and further away from her sister.

_I promise I’m coming back, Paige._


	12. Hux III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an engagement is announced.

The disappearance of a servant hardly seemed like a fuss to Hux. They came and went every day for one reason or another--too mouthy in the brothels, too fumbling in the kitchen, too headstrong in the stables. It wasn’t something to concern himself with; but the king seemed perturbed by this and he hadn’t an inkling as to why.  
He _had_ , however, come up with a solution to his problem.

 

Lady Arryn had been summoned a week after her maid’s disappearance to the chamber of the small council, where Hux and the council met her, just as they had the day she’d arrived.  
“Lady Arryn. Please come in,” he gestured into the room and she drifted inside and to the table, hand holding her wrist in front of herself as she faced all of them.

To be sure, she was a lovely girl. A round face, dark eyes, long dark hair. In her deep Arryn Blue gowns she looked cool even in the warm air of King’s Landing, and she carried herself like a proper highborn girl.  
“My Lord Hand?” She tilted her head slightly, an innocent inquiry to all gathered. Hux stayed his seat.  
“You arrived here some months ago now, and your entreaty was that you be found an opportune marriage to seal your family’s loyalties to the crown, yes?” She gave a nod.  
“I did, my lord.”  
“I have determined a proper match for this condition. Because of your family’s longstanding loyalty to the crown, I see it only fitting you should be wed to a member of this council.” Silence. Hux settled his hands on the table before gesturing to the man a few seats down from him and currently looking over a long list in front of himself. “Lord Mitaka.”

Both Lady Arryn and Mitaka went rather still before Mitaka looked up, startled.  
“My lord?” He sounded stunned and hesitant, but Hux only nodded.  
“A suitable union for both of our interests. Lord Mitaka is our master of coin and a loyal member of this council.” He watched Lady Arryn’s widened eyes travel from Mitaka to himself.  
“I…” She slowly bowed her head in a nod. “I would, of course, be honored to enter into such a union, if my lord is willing.”

Mitaka looked not _unwilling_ , but rather _disbelieving._

Paige Arryn was dismissed and Mitaka looked stunned, mouth open in his seat.  
“Hux--Armitage--” He shook his head, trying to make sense of this. “ _Me?”_  
“You.” Hux settled back in his seat and Mitaka stared at the far wall.  
“I don’t...understand.”  
“There isn’t anything to understand, Mitaka. You’ll wed the Arryn girl and seal her house’s allegiance to the First Order and the crown.”  
“Yes but,” Mitaka was shaking his head, “I still don’t understand,” he looked up at Hux, lost. “Why me?” Hux was growing impatient. These questions were pointless.  
“Do you have some objection to the engagement?” There was an edge to his voice that suggested if Mitaka did in fact have objections he’d best not voice them.  
Defeated, the master of coin sunk back into his seat and let out a slow exhale.  
“No, none.”  
“Good. We’ll be done here for the time being, then”

  


He was glad to be rid of that particular issue. They had bigger things to be focusing on rather than the wedding of some girl just to seal an alliance with a mountain-bound noble house--at the very least he’d managed to divert the end result of all this marriage nonsense from falling on himself.  
“Why me?”  
The answer to Mitaka’s question before was simple: So that it wouldn’t be me.  


Snoke had agreed upon Paige Arryn’s marriage to Mitaka. It had almost seemed like too easy an agreement, especially after his threats before, but Hux wasn’t going to give it too much thought for now. The old creature’s strange visions and premonitions had been either beneficial or inconsequential up until now, and so Hux let him carry on with whatever plot or grand scheme he had without interference.

In the meantime, Hux sought out Captain Phasma, ready in her gleaming silver armor.  
There was work to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the shortest chapter to date--but a big reveal. next week this is taking a hiatus but will be right back, i promise. c:


	13. Rey III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a gift is given.

The Red Waste was barren and silent as they traveled in the night. The nights, as the Knights of Ren discovered, were chilly but not intolerable. Their layers came in handy, but they left their pieces of armor aback the zorse in their bags.  
Rey liked them a great deal. They were entertaining, clever and funny and bold; they sang with her and showed her how to clean weapons and armor. Rey was glad to have travelers who knew how to make fires and better still: how to defend themselves.  
Day watch was easier; the knights knew how to manage shifts and how to keep watch, but Rey still made trips for water. 

They moved at sunset every day, rising with the stars and continuing across the barren desert. Rey was used to all of this, the dust and the heat and the thirst, but the knights were not faring so well with the lack of water, even in the cooler night hours.  
“We’ve got to ration,” Rey warned, “Otherwise we could run out entirely. I can’t always find water during the days.” And if that happened often enough, they truly could run out of water even with their rationing.  
  


Kylo Ren was quiet, as ever. Rey wondered if he talked much at all even before she’d met him, but something told her he probably didn’t. Something about him made her skin prickle when she looked at him, sometimes. She knew this man. She had seen him before.  
She couldn’t place where. Sometimes she looked at him and it seemed right on the tip of her tongue, as if any second she would remember him, but it never came. She was beginning to think maybe she was imagining all of it, that she was mistaken about knowing him. She caught him staring at her from time to time, however, and she wondered if maybe she wasn’t so mistaken after all.  
It was his eyes, she thought. His eyes were the thing she could not shake from her mind. They were so dark she wasn’t sure she could see anything in them, and yet sometimes in the firelight they were alive with color and light. They were old eyes, she decided, eyes that had seen too much in a life hardly so long. Rey wondered if maybe her own eyes looked the same, now.

 

_ A dream again. A cold dream, a smoke dream. Snow, blood, so much ice. Fires that could not warm. Shadows that moved; one, great and lurking, that breathed smoke into her lungs and threatened to swallow her whole. _

 

She sparred with the knights. They were teaching her to use different weapons, and had been amused and delighted at how easily she picked all of it up. It was entertaining, a way to keep their spirits lifted while walking; Rey learned to use sword and lash and hammer, and in return she showed them how to be more agile, and taught them words in different languages.  
“Your arms are bigger,” Krytha laughed as they all sat around a fire during one meal. Rey laughed, glancing down at one of her biceps.  
“Well I should hope so after everything we’ve been doing,” and the others laughed as well. She got along with the knights; she knew she’d be sad to see them all go when they parted ways.

It was Kylo Ren who she still felt strangely drawn to, even if he rarely spoke all that much to her. One night as they sat and let the knights take a while to scout nearby for places to rest during the day and maybe something to eat, Rey sat under the stars with Kylo Ren and her zorse, resting a bit while waiting for the others to return. It was quiet; the two of them sat a few feet apart for a time in silence, until Kylo Ren spoke.  
“It’s quiet here,” he remarked, “Not even any insect sounds.” Rey nodded, gazing up at the sky.  
“There’s no way for them to live out here,” she murmured, “Nothing to eat. No water. Not even maggots on the dead.”  
“How is it you manage this so well?” She glanced up and found he was looking at her, and briefly her skin prickled without warning.  
“Manage what, traveling?”  
“Traveling here, on your own.” Rey took a little breath, sitting back and looking up at the sky.

“I have the stars,” she breathed out, “They tell me where to go and what to do.”  
“And the heat?” He asked, watching her. She shook her head.  
“The heat doesn’t bother me,” she replied, “Don’t know why. It just never has.” Her zorse bumped its nose against her shoulder at this, and Rey smiled, rubbing its tan and white head affectionately, kissing its snout. Kylo Ren watched in silence a moment.  
“I’ve never seen a zorse like that.” Rey nodded.  
“Nor I. Nor anyone else coming this way, really.” She scratched behind the animal’s ears, smiling as it whuffed at her and rubbed its head against her hair. “I was taking traders to meet with the Jhogos Nhai,” She told him, “When we met, it was to trade for zorses--this one,” she rubbed its forehead, “Was only a foal at the time, and they--”  
“They were going to cull it.” He cut her off, his expression strange when she looked at him in surprise. “It wasn’t the right colors...they thought it was a bad omen.” Rey nodded slowly, startled. _How did he know that?_ She wondered, but swallowed the question down and continued.  
“Yes. They thought it was a bad sign, that it would mean their horses would die. I saved it,” she rested her forehead against the zorse’s cheek, rubbing its nose. “It’s been my only companion ever since.” Kylo Ren nodded, settling back again.  
“A horse is a good companion to have.”

  
  


They traveled on. Rey continued to have the strange dreams--the smoke dreams, the cold dreams, she called them, because it was all she could recall of them when she woke.

Kylo Ren offered to travel for water with her as the days passed. She let him; one of the others took watch, and the two of them headed out into the waste with her zorse, sometimes riding, sometimes on foot.  
“Why do you come with me now?” She asked one day as they walked, faces mostly covered from the beating sun.  
“I prefer it to attempting to sleep.” Rey focused on the rock outcroppings ahead of them.  
“Nightmares.” She said knowingly, and he said nothing. When they found water, he helped her collect it, and they rode back. When they lie down to try and sleep again, Rey wondered what his nightmares must be about.

 

They’d made fire, one night, to sit and cook what was left of some of the meat they had. Rey sat near Kylo Ren as the knights ate and joked, and after weeks of travel and curiosity, she turned to him in the firelight, watching him clean his strange sword. It was dark steel, inlaid with glittering rubies along the blade, and the crossguard was made from dark red crystal that gleamed in the firelight as if it burned from within.  
“So where do you come from?” She asked, cocking her head slightly, chewing at the meat she had left. He didn’t look up.  
“Westeros.”  
“I know that much. But where? Westeros isn’t just one place.” She shrugged a little, “Are you from the North? Tarkka says they’re from the North--’as north as the North can go, and then even further’. Is that where you come from too?”  
“No.”  
“The south, then!”  
“Dorne,” he corrected her, and she blinked. “The south we call Dorne.” She nodded some.  
“So then you come from Dorne!”  
“No.” Rey’s lips formed a line.  
“Not north, not south. Where, then?” There was quiet for a moment, and he looked up at the sky before answering her.  
“A place called the Crownlands,” Rey watched him silently as he spoke, “Where King’s Landing is.” Rey smiled at this.  
“You’re from King’s Landing! I’ve never been there.” She looked up at the stars now too. “I’ve never been across the Narrow Sea.”  
“Mm...”  
“What’s it like there?” She looked over at him, watching the golden light dance on his pale skin, in his eyes. They looked alive, tonight; golden and orange and red, the colors of fire. He shook his head, rubbing at his face a little. He’d grown a beard by now, though he’d managed to trim it some himself. Rey liked it on his face, but it made him look older.  
“Too many people,” he replied finally, “Too little space, in some places. The city is filthy.” Rey shrugged.  
“All cities seem like that. Stink of shit and death, and pretend to be lovely.” His mouth curved into a small smile, and Rey felt something in her chest tighten a little. She smiled back.  
“What cities do you know, then?” Rey’s smile widened.

 

“I have a game,” she said, shifting a little so she could face him better, “You tell me something about yourself, and I’ll tell you something about myself!”  
“That hardly seems fair.”  
“How? A fact for a fact!” He glanced over at her, smile still playing on his lips.  
“Some of us have more to tell than others.” Rey huffed some.  
“Then just tell me whatever you can!”  
“You assume I meant myself…” She gasped some, but started to laugh. Was he joking, now?  
“That’s awful!” She laughed, “I’ll start, then.” She cleared her throat a bit, “My favorite color is yellow.” His brow went up.  
“You haven’t gotten enough yellow in your life?” He gestured around them and Rey laughed, shaking her head.  
“It’s your turn!” He nodded some before looking at her again.  
“My favorite color is red.” Rey nodded in satisfaction.  
“Red is a good color.” She smiled at him, “I’ve never been further west than Pentos.” He fixed her with a chastising gaze.  
“You already told me that. You said you’d never been across the Narrow Sea.” Rey laughed, nodding.  
“Oh all right, all right...mmm...I can speak six languages.” He looked impressed.  
“I can only speak two.” Rey smiled.  
“I could fix that, if you like.” He smiled at this.

“It’s your turn.”  
“Hmm...I don’t know when I was born.” Kylo Ren looked at her in surprise.  
“You don’t know your name day?” She cocked her head.  
“What is a ‘name day’?”  
“The day you were born. When you got your name.”  
“Oh!” she laughed delightedly, “Oh that’s clever! No,” she shook her head, “I don’t know my ‘name day’.”  
“We celebrate them, in Westeros,” he told her, “When it’s someone’s name day there is a feast, a party, and they receive gifts from their family and friends.” Rey grinned.  
“Haven’t got any of that, so I suppose it’s just as well.” Kylo looked down a bit.  
“I suppose.”  
“When is yours?” She asked, looking at him curiously.  
“My name day?” She nodded. “Near the end of the calendar year.” Rey nodded thoughtfully at this, and then settled in her seat again.  
“My turn again, then. I don’t remember my parents.” Something flickered over his face when she said this, and his smile disappeared.  
“My father is dead,” he replied quietly. “My mother….my mother ran away.” Rey was quiet now as well.  
“I’m sorry.” He only gave a slight nod of his head.

 

“I never knew my parents,” she said, gazing into the fire now. “They left me,” it was all she could remember of it all, “Out here, in the waste.” She could see it in the fire as if she were watching her own memories, hazy with spark and smoke. Rustling fabric, hoofbeats. The sound of her own labored breathing, her own screams.  
“I’m sorry,” his voice brought her back to reality. She looked up and found him gazing at her, firelight playing in his eyes and making his gaze seem strangely soft. She shook her head.  
“No need.” She turned back to the fire again, “No use dwelling on it now.”

 

Quiet fell for a time, and they eventually all moved on again. Walking under the stars, Kylo Ren kept pace closer to Rey tonight, walking beside her zorse with her.  
“Have you ever been to Qarth?” She asked after a while.  
“No,” he admitted, “I haven’t.” Rey grinned.  
“You’ll like it,” she mused, glancing at him playfully, “Lot of red there.” He let out a quiet laugh through his nose.  
“I see.”  
“Why are you going to Qarth, Kylo Ren?” she looked over at him, and he took a breath.  
“Information.”  
“Lot of that there too,” she nodded, “I’m sure you’ll find whatever you need.” He nodded now as well.  
“I hope we do.”

  
  


_ “A rose dies, twin petals cast to the wind _

_ A star cries, mourns for a brother and friend _

_ A dragon turned cold with the crown in steel hold _

_ A summer grown old—“ _

 

“That’s too damn sad!” Krytha waved a hand to get Rey to stop singing, her nose wrinkled. “Where’d you learn an awful song like that!”  
“Made it up,” Rey shrugged, “Make plenty of songs up when I have dreams.”  
“Dreams!” Siv guffawed, “The fuck sort of dreams are you having?”  
“Loads,” Rey grinned, and Solea chimed in from behind,  
“You need better dreams!” and the company had a good laugh as Krytha came up to sling an arm around Rey’s waist, leaning in close to her face and grinning lecherously.  
“I could help with that,” she purred, and Rey laughed, leaning in close enough their noses almost touched.  
“That’s bold! I’d like to test that, if you’re that good…” The others made interested noises at her response and she felt Krytha’s hand slide down to her ass and snorted as the other woman got a palmful of her through her trousers.  
“When we get to Qarth I’ll make certain the whole city knows my name, girl.” Rey grinned, raising an eyebrow and tilting her head closer still.  
“Oh? How’s that?”  
“They’ll hear you screaming it.” There was laughter behind them and Nuaala snorted.  
“Lecher. Let the girl go, otherwise we’ll all get lost out in this damn wasteland!” Rey laughed, leaning forward and giving Krytha a peck on the cheek before slipping out of her grasp.  
“I can do more than one thing at a time, Nuaala,” she laughed, “But I appreciate the concern!” Which only drew more laughter, but none from Kylo Ren.

 

The next night, they came across the remains of a Dothraki encampment, or a small khalasar of some kind. There were bodies littering the barren ground, men, women, children. They had been struck down, from the look of it. Their food, their skins of milk and water, were gone. Rey sighed softly as the others looked things over.  
“Nothing left worth taking,” Solea sighed, tossing aside an empty pack. Nuaala looked the sight over, frowning.  
“What happened here?” Rey shook her head.  
“I couldn’t say. Possibly a fight between khalasars, possibly just desperation. I do not know these people. Khalasars lay waste to one another all the time, and if another passing khas was hungry or thirsty...” Still, she started gathering the remnants of their camp, their belongings, and piling it all around where most of the bodies lay. Asteria spoke up, watching her.  
“What are you doing?”  
“I can’t make it perfect, but they’ll have a pyre.” The others were quiet for a moment, but slowly they all moved to help her pile the bodies and the refuse.

Kylo Ren lit the pyre, and Rey watched, mesmerized, as he unsheathed his beautiful sword, and the blade caught fire. He touched it to the pyre, and as the pile caught flame, he stepped back, watching it all burn with the others for a brief time before they moved on.  
“Not often we do this in the south,” Nuaala said quietly. Rey understood her.  
“Thank you.”  
“That could be us, any of us,” she replied, “But we are alive.”  
“The Dothraki burn their dead. To send their souls to ride in the night lands.” Nuaala’s voice was wry.  
“In the north, we burn our dead as well--but we do it so they won’t stand back up and try to kill us.” She’d turned to stride away before Rey could ask about this.

  
  


_ A boy running through snow. It was cold, it was so bitter cold, and dark was falling and he had no idea where he was but he had to keep running, tears stinging his eyes that threatened to freeze on his skin, lips cracking as even his breath came frigid from his mouth, his heart pounding in his--in her ears? She was the boy, running hard, straining her body to get further and further until suddenly everything was blinding blue and then black-- _

 

Rey woke in the desert heat, sitting up away from her zorse’s side and taking a few quiet breaths. The skin on her arms was pimpled as if she’d been cold, and even her fingers were cool to the touch, somehow, and she sighed. The dreams had been like this before, cold enough to help her keep cool in the burning heat of the waste. She looked up from under the rock shelf they were all camped under and saw a familiar figure sitting the watch shift.  
She got up quietly from her place and walked up to stand beside him before settling onto her legs.  
“A bad dream,” he stated without looking at her, and Rey exhaled quietly.  
“Was I making noise?”  
“Your turn at the watch was hours ago. You were quiet in your sleep.” She nodded a little, watching the barren waste stretch on for eternity ahead of them in the beating sunlight.  
“Bad dreams…” she mused quietly, “Or perhaps a good dream. Sometimes I can hardly tell the difference.”  
“How do you mean?”  
“Sometimes I dream of other things...other places. They feel like messages, and I wonder if I should fear them or…” she shook her head, “I can’t imagine what the gods would be trying to tell someone like me.” He’d turned to look at her, watching her with a quiet look in his eyes.

 

“Were you always a slave?”  
“I was not a slave--”  
“I recall you telling me that. Then you were employed, is that it?” Rey frowned.  
“I was left here,” she gestured to the desert, “Likely to die as a child. A nomad found me, sold me in Meereen without my consent after we had traveled the waste together for days and days...it must have been years. I was not his property,” she said bitterly.

“I thought I could trust him.” Her eyes were hard with an old anger, “When I was sold to Unkar Plutt, he was hosting guests. They needed passage to Qarth--I knew the way. I struck a bargain, that I would lead travelers and give him what they paid me, and in return he would not keep me in the city.”  
“He broke that deal,” Kylo Ren supplied, and Rey nodded.  
“I am not a slave. If I had the power, I would see to it the slaves of the cities of the Masters were treated more kindly,” she sighed, shaking her head. “No one has that kind of power.” Kylo raised an eyebrow.  
“Only treated more kindly?”  
“Only a fool would believe they could end the slave trade entirely. The old cities have done these things since long, long before I was born, and they will continue to do so after I am gone. The Masters, the Dothraki, the sea slavers--they profit from slave trade. To cease it entirely would be…”  
“A feat of great power,” Kylo replied.  
“-- _ Impossible. _ Power like that...no one could possibly have.” She shook her head. “No one could bring so many cities and lords to heel, could change entire economies that way.”

Kylo Ren watched the air shimmer in the burning heat.  
“The dragonlords did,” he said, and she almost laughed.  
“The dragons are dead. Everyone knows that, even me.”  
“But they lived, once. Aegon Targaryen and his sisters brought all of Westeros into their fold, once.” Rey looked over at him quietly.  
“With dragons.” He nodded.  
“Their three dragons, one of which was the only survivor of the Doom.” Rey listened with interest.  
“The Doom of Valyria, you mean.”  
“I do.”  
“Tell me about them, the dragons.” Kylo Ren shook his head.  
“No man alive has seen one,” he told her, “But there are skulls, skulls of some of the old dragons, the Targaryen dragons, in the Red Keep.”  
“Dragon skulls? Real ones?”  
“As real as you or I.” Rey watched him as he told her this, and for the first time, there was something sparking in his eyes, something vital in his voice, and she was drawn to it.  
“What are they like?”  
“Huge,” he told her, “Unimaginable. Some with fangs long as my arm, big enough to swallow an aurochs whole.” Rey shook her head, unable to fathom such a thing.

“They were what conquered Westeros,” he said reverently, “and the Targaryens who rode them.” Rey sighed softly.  
“The men who come from Westeros say all of the dragons are gone, the great beasts, and the Targaryens now as well.” Silence fell between them for a long moment.

 

“Not all of them,” he spoke up finally, his voice quiet. Rey looked up. “Leia Targaryen is still alive.” Her brow knit slightly.  
“Who is that?”  
“She was...she was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, once.”  
“Not anymore?”  
“There was an attack. After the death of the king, she fled with her supporters.” Rey watched him, watched something strange play in his eyes as he spoke, and would not look at her. “Her twin brother may be dead. Lucerys Targaryen fled Westeros long before the Fall of Shadows.” Rey took a breath, feeling something strange in her as she listened to this.  
“I see.”  
“But she lives. There are still Targaryens alive.”  
“And no dragons.” He looked pensive at this, however.  
“Not to any man’s knowledge.”

She watched the haze in the air with him, feeling rest settling into her bones as they sat together.  
“Do you think there could be...somewhere, far from where any man has seen...do you think there could still be dragons?” Kylo Ren’s voice was quiet enough that Rey swore she could hear his smile.  
“What a magnificent thought that is.”  
  
  
  
  


The nights leading to Qarth, Kylo Ren told her more about the history of the Targaryens and their dragons. She wondered how he knew all of this; the Westerosi must teach their children a great deal of history, for all of this, but it was fascinating. Dragons--to think there had once been dragons flying the skies, that little Targaryen princes and princesses were gifted eggs that would grow to be their own dragons to ride…  
“But what happened to Balerion?” She asked as they walked with her zorse, the knights ahead of them after bickering with the two of them over how dull the history was. Kylo Ren took a breath.  
“Balerion is said to have died of old age,” he replied, “He’s thought to have been over two hundred years old.” Rey’s eyes widened.  
“Two hundred…”  
“His skull is in the Red Keep, the largest and greatest of all of them.” She shook her head.  
“Can you imagine something so...so...massive--something so wild and magical--” He shook his head.  
“In dreams, maybe.” Rey smiled, looking up at the stars.  
“To fly on a dragon,” she shook her head again, “That would be true freedom.” As if understanding her, the zorse bumped its head against her shoulder, whickering at her indignantly. Rey laughed, rubbing its head fondly. “But I have you,” she kissed its cheek, “and now the both of us have our own freedom.”  
  
  


Qarth loomed ahead of them, walled and massive, and Rey felt a strange sense of loss as she approached its gates with the Knights of Ren in the daylight hours now. They passed through the Garden of Bones and Rey explained its presence to the knights.  
“The Qartheen allow in only those who they deem worthy,” she told them, “The desert here is called the Garden of Bones--every time the gates of Qarth are shut on another traveler, the garden grows.” It was a quiet walk through this stretch of dirt.

 

The gates opened for Rey and her company, however.

Beyond the massive gates lay Qarth, beautiful and colorful, an oasis out of the waste. The Knights of Ren followed Rey inside, taking in the sight of all of it as the gates again shut behind them.  
They were quickly met, however, by a servant: a woman in robes of many colored silks, bowing and flanked by two younger girls in gray as they stood before the group.  
“Greetings, Knights of Ren, Rey of the Red Waste. I have come to bring you to the palace of my employer, where you will be hosted for your stay here in the great city of Qarth.” They all glanced around at one another, Rey raising an eyebrow at Nuaala.  
“Were you expecting...this?” She asked, and Nuaala, Kylo Ren, and the others all glanced at one another before shaking their heads.  
“No, we weren’t.” Nuaala stepped forward, cocking her head slightly. “Who is your employer? Who is this person who is so bold to say they will host us, and does not meet us themself?” The woman’s head remained bowed.  
“My lady is unfortunately not yet returned from a trade venture, but shall be arriving within a day’s time. She regrets that she cannot greet you in person, but has vowed that her palace here will be your home within Qarth. Please, my lord and ladies, follow me.”

 

There was a moment of deliberation before Kylo Ren followed the three women without a word. Rey and the other knights looked around at each other before following after, speaking quietly amongst themselves.  
“It’s cooler here already…”  
“Did we have lodging already arranged?”  
“Don’t care, just want some wine already.”  
“I want a good long bath myself.”  
“All right princess, want us to feed you while you soak the royal ass?” Rey snorted, walking beside Nuaala behind Kylo and their host’s servants.  
“Do you know anyone in the city?” She asked, and Nuaala shook her head.  
“No. If Kylo had things prepared here, he never said, but this seems to be new information to him, as well.” Rey nodded slowly, watching Kylo Ren’s dust-covered back as they walked through the colorful city.  
“I see.”

They were brought to a sprawling palace--it was all in pale orange stone, painted with gold embellishment on patterns of green leaves to mimic the lush greenery that was growing throughout the property.  
“This is Takodana,” they were told, and Rey looked around curiously.  
“It’s an old word, it means...it’s a way of saying ‘to meet under cover of trees’.” An interesting name for a place that was being offered up to them as a home away from home.  
The Knights of Ren and Rey were given an entire wing of this estate to roam as they liked; each of them shown to rooms and told they would have servants to attend them during their stay. The knights looked entirely too pleased at the lovely young women who were waiting to be ordered about.

Rey, on the other hand, was trying to turn all of this down.  
“I-I really should be leaving, I’ve already stayed too long--” Kylo Ren stopped her, however, staying in the hallway outside all of their separate chambers with her as she protested to the woman who had brought them all here.  
“You have nowhere else to go at the moment, do you.” It was a statement, not a question, and Rey looked up at him, finding a strange sort of quiet look in his dark eyes. She wet her lips slightly, hardly noticing as the woman excused herself.  
“No, I suppose I don’t.”  
“Stay. If someone is offering you their hospitality, it would be rude to refuse it.” He turned on his heel and strode away from her, and Rey watched him go, wondering why he had been looking at her that way.  
  


The next morning, Kylo Ren was gone when she asked after him.  
The knights had gone to explore, and Rey took a day to rest. It had been a long, long time since she’d slept in a proper bed, and this one was the most comfortable thing she’d ever slept in.

The morning after that, Kylo Ren was gone again.  
Rey wondered what it was he was looking for here. There was no sign of their host yet, either, but Rey was letting herself indulge in this place as long as she could, getting sleep and food and _water_ until she slept again from how bloated she felt. Kylo Ren...she wondered how long they would stay, how long she would be permitted to stay, what would happen when he, and the knights, left at last.  
She did see him, however, that night. 

She’d been bathed by the maids in her set of chambers, her skin scrubbed clean and her hair combed out and oiled until it shone, and Rey marveled at herself when they sat her before a mirror. She hadn’t ever seen her own reflection so clearly, and this...wasn’t quite what she expected. Less so, she thought, with sleep in her bones and food in her belly, with oils in her long, loose hair and perfume on her skin.  
They’d given her a Qartheen gown to wear, one in pale pink, embroidered with pearls and thin thread of gold. It was loose, bared a great deal of her tanned, freckled skin to the night air, but she didn’t mind it for now.

She wandered into the courtyard outside their wing of the palace, barefoot under the hem of her gown--she’d thought to hide it, but the skirt made her fear for her legs, thinking she’d trip, and so she’d hoisted them up more than once. No one else was in the courtyard garden save for slaves that she could hear shuffling about a fair distance away. Candles burned in colorful lamps around her, the night was cool and quiet, until there was a sound behind her.  
Rey turned, and was face-to-face with Kylo Ren.

In the low light, they took in the sight of one another--she saw that he’d gotten his hair cut again, and shaved his face. He was clean again, looking more like he had when they’d first met, but now in these soft leisure robes, with his hair clean and combed and his face bare, he looked…  
“The gown suits you,” he murmured, breaking the silence. Rey looked down in surprise.  
“Did you--did _you_ buy this?”  
“If you would rather sell it, then I’m certain you could fetch a fair price.” Rey was stunned. He’d bought her a gown? But--  
“Why?” Her voice was soft, barely a whisper.  
“A small favor. Only a gown.” He tried to sound dismissive, but she saw the look in his eyes and knew it was more than that.  
“Thank you,” she nodded, and he gave her a small nod in return, watching her for a moment with an unreadable expression on his face.  
“You look beautiful.” He said it so softly, she nearly missed it. Her face warmed and she felt her heart flutter in her chest in a way she hadn’t known was possible.  
“I…” When he said it to her, looking at her the way he was, she believed it. “Thank you.” Her voice was softer than it had ever been to her ears, barely there. He took a step closer to her, and Rey drifted closer to him all on her own.  
“Where will you go, when you leave this place?”

Rey took a breath, shaking her head slowly.  
“I don’t know,” she told him. “Somewhere far from Slaver’s Bay.” He opened his mouth as if to say something to her, but then shut it again. Rey wondered what it had been, watched his lips purse and then relax in the dim light.  
“You should remain here as long as you can, enjoy the food and the comfort,” he said finally, turning to face the palace behind them, “Before you return to nothing.”

When he strode away from her, Rey felt something strange and hollow in the pit of her belly.

 

The following morning, Kylo Ren was gone again.  
Rey requested trousers to wear; they brought her orange sandsilk and linen clothing, softer than she’d ever felt and cool as she walked around in them. She knotted her hair up again on her own and went to explore the grounds of this place, ‘Takodana’, and it was much more massive than she had thought. She passed rooms filled with tapestries and treasures, statues with eyes of rubies and emeralds. There were books on shelf after shelf, a greenhouse filled with plants and flowers she had never seen before. She passed courtyards dotted with other guests, she assumed, in the most lavish clothing she’d ever seen, even in Qarth.

It wasn’t until she’d wandered back towards her own wing of the palace that she ran into a small entourage.  
“There she is, the girl, my lady, as you instructed!” It was the woman who had brought them here, accompanied by a very small, very _old_ woman. The small old woman looked strangely spry, however; she wore multicolored scarves around a bald head, jewelry of stone and wood and metal that shook and jingled as she moved, bracelets and necklaces. Her clothing was bright and patterned and her skin was tanned and leathery, wrinkled here and there where Rey could see, and when she saw Rey, her old face lit up and she immediately headed towards her.  
“I have been waiting a long, long time to meet you, girl!” She shouted happily, “What a day this is!” Rey blinked as the old woman approached her with open arms.  
“Do I...know who you are?” The woman smiled and Rey saw wisdom and mischief in her beady eyes.  
“Not yet, but I know you. And I have a gift for you!” Rey looked even more confused.  
“A gift? How do you know me?” But the woman only took her by the wrist and gently led her along towards the rooms she’d been staying in.  
“Come, come…” she ushered her, “There are some things you must learn it is better not to question, girl,” the old woman said, “Such as gifts! But you may ask who I am.”  
“Then who...who are yo--”  
“I am Maz Kanata,” she cut Rey off as they walked, stating it as if it ought to have explained everything. Rey wasn’t sure how she felt about this--the woman had already given her more than enough, just by letting her stay here.  
“You’ve already done so much, I could hardly accept more--”  
“Nonsense! This is hospitality,” she gestured around them at the palace, “But a gift is a gift.” Rey was led to the little sitting room she had, with its stone hearth and pretty engraved wooden furniture. On the small table at the center of the room, there was a chest.  
It was large and long, made of old, dark wood and latched with iron. Maz Kanata led Rey to sit in front of it, and stood nearby.  
“It is a gift,” she nodded at the trunk, “For you, Rey of the Red Waste, Daughter of the Sun.” Rey felt her skin tingle at the way Maz Kanata said these things, but still she leaned forward and opened the chest.

Inside, nestled within a cloak of deep blue velvet was a sword--it was pale silver, almost white, but it seemed to shift and gleam all colors she knew when the light hit.  _ Valyrian steel _ , she knew, running her hand over the flat side of the blade, her fingers trailing over a strange inlay of brilliantly blue stone in the center of the steel near the hilt. The handle was bound with black leather and beside it, wrapped further in the cloak, were two eggs. 

Each was big enough it took both of her hands to hold it, and heavier than they looked. One was pale, cream-white and shimmering nearly moon-silver when it caught the light. The other was black, dark as night but almost red where the sun hit. Rey’s eyes were wide and she could hardly breathe as she looked at the eggs, one and then the other, in her hands. She felt something strange, holding them, as if she had been waiting for this moment for her entire life. Without hearing the words, she knew what these were.  
“Dragon eggs,” she breathed in awe, and Maz Kanata nodded.  
“They have been waiting for you,” she said softly, “Since long before you were born. Since before I was born.” Rey’s brow knit.  
“How can that be?”

Maz Kanata perched on the sofa Rey had settled on beside her.  
“The gods work in ways that we cannot always understand, Rey of the Red Waste,” she shook her head some, smiling, “and perhaps that is for the best. Whatever their intentions, you are the one meant to have these.” Rey shook her head, moving back away from the chest, forcing herself to release the dragon eggs.  
“That can’t be true. I’m no one, I’m...nothing at all.” Maz Kanata rested a small, ancient hand on her arm.  
“You are Rey of the Red Waste. Daughter of the Sun, Shierak Inavva--the sister of stars.” Maz shook her head, still smiling. “You are not no one, nothing.” Rey felt her throat tighten, her eyess gloss over. None of that _ meant  _ anything. It was all just words, and nonsense--things people said to sound as if they were more than they were. Rey was no one. She had come from nothing, and she had nothing.  
“I don’t--I shouldn’t take them, they can’t be meant for me,” she got out, her voice tight, but Maz wouldn’t hear it.  
“For years, I have known you before I ever laid eyes upon you. ‘ _ The sun child is coming, _ ’ the gods tell me in my sleep,  _ ‘the sister of stars comes for her gift’ _ , they say. The red ones tell me, too--’ _ She is near, child of the desert, the girl you must meet’. _ And now here you are. The girl raised by the sun, the girl who is called star-sister. You have come to me, and I must give you this gift.” She rested a hand atop Rey’s on the black dragon egg, and Rey could feel the ridges of it under her palm, stone-hard and cool to the touch. 

 

Rey felt her heart beating in her throat, and couldn’t explain what she was feeling, but the only thing she could get out of her mouth was a whisper.  
“What am I supposed to do?” She asked, hushed and uncertain. “What can I do?” Maz only smiled in return.  
“What you need is in the House of the Undying as we speak. Go there, and you will find your answers.”


	14. Kylo III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In the House of the Undying._

It had taken time to find any of the warlocks to speak to. Qarth was busy and winding, a strange city that seemed almost alive...and full of magic.

 

Kylo Ren was no stranger to magic. Even now, he passed the red priests and caught the sun glinting on the lacquered masks of shadowbinders, and he knew their kind, knew the sort of tricks they could perform. But those tricks, the flames and the shadows, they were not what he had come here for.  
Neither, he knew, were the invitations from members of the Thirteen to visit their estates, but in the hopes of finding what he was after, he had accepted more than one. He asked around where he could, of course, trying to speed things along.  
“They cannot be trusted, my lord Ren! They sip on their poison day and night and read their ancient scrolls but they are nothing now, I tell you!”  
“They boast great and terrible power, but their blue lips tell only lies, Master Ren. They are shells of the warlocks who came before. They have no power any longer, only their warlock’s wine and their threats.”  
“Their place is a ruin, Lord Ren, there can be nothing there for you! Come, come, let me host you on my pleasure barge instead, I assure you any answers you seek can be found in the sweet melodies of my flutists….”  
He grew tired of the honeyed words of the Qartheen.  
Finally, however, finally he met with one of the warlocks he sought.

Pyat Pree was a strange, tall, thin man, with skin that was paler than pale; ghostly white and riddled with thin blue veins, and lips that were a strange, deep shade of blue as well. Kylo Ren misliked the look of him, to be sure, but the warlock knew him.  
“Master of the Knights of Ren,” he greeted him with a flourishing bow, grey eyes too-pale in deepset, darkened sockets, “I am Pyat Pree, great warlock of Qarth. You’ve come a long way to us here.” Kylo eyed him with wary curiosity.  
“I have. I have been told that I might find answers here in Qarth,” he replied, and Pyat Pree gave him a smile that did not lessen his mistrust.  
“You have come to visit the House of the Undying,” he said knowingly, “Only there will you find the truth and wisdom you seek.”  
“If you tell me true, warlock, then I ask for entry.” Pyat Pree gave another bow, smile still in place on his blue lips.  
“When the sun rises in the sky, come to the House of the Undying, Kylo Ren. You will find what you seek.”  
With his task completed, he had journeyed to the great bazaar to find something else he thought to buy, requesting that it be sent immediately to Takodana.  


That night he had seen her, Rey. The servants had dressed her in the gown he had sent for her--truly it was only a gown, something he knew she would have little use for if she were to return to the waste or even continue her traveling, but if she were to remain in Qarth a bit longer…  
In the courtyard, she was bathed in soft golden light, under the trees and stars above them both. Her hair was long and loose and her skin was bared to the night air in the thin, plunging silk. Pink as the pale skin of a peach and shot through with gold, stitched with pearls, the gown suited her, in color and cut. She looked as soft as any lady, but still with the edge of the desert in her eyes and dusted on her skin, freckles like constellations.

He knew her. He had known in the waste, when he had seen her crest the first hill before them under the night sky. He had dreamt about this girl, for years upon years.  
_A figure silhouetted under a sky of stars, red desert below._  
But now...now, as he neared her, he knew more than ever.  
Her freckles dusting her skin in the lantern light. _Flecks of bronze on sand._  
He had caught it before but now, close as they were, it was there: _green growing from gold_ in her eyes.  
He knew her. He knew her zorse, knew her smile, knew things he hadn’t realized he did until she had spoken with him over their travels. He had no idea why he knew these things, but he did.

He hadn’t known, however, just what to say to her in the courtyard. She spoke of leaving, going far from Slaver’s Bay, and he did not know what to tell her. He did not know, likewise, what he wanted to say to begin with.  
Somehow he knew this girl as if he had known her his entire life. He had felt drawn to her immediately, that night in Meereen, and all the nights after had been spent as if in some strange current, constantly threatening to drag him closer and closer to her. He had no explanation to offer, he did not understand this. But something told him, when she looked at him from time to time, that she felt the same things he did.  
Even so, the thought of bringing her to King’s Landing with him seemed unacceptable. He could not put it to words, but he did not want to bring her there, did not want to reveal her existence. Just like his dreams, he felt dread at Snoke discovering she lived, and he did not know why.  


When the sun rose, Kylo Ren was already stalking through Qarth, finding his course to the place he needed to be.

Pyat Pree met him at the gates of the strange place. An ancient ruin, grey and black and crumbling, the building was low and seemed to stretch like a serpent through trees with black bark and blue leaves. As Kylo Ren looked on, he could see no windows, no alternate doors, no towers to this building--it was in varying states of decay, the roof tiles cracked and falling, the building itself living up to the name he had heard whispered more than once: ‘Palace of Dust’.  
“Welcome to the House of the Undying, Kylo Ren.”  
There was a strange sense of beckoning from this building, as if hands were urging him inside and welcoming him among them. Kylo Ren did not fear them, but he felt some apprehension as they continued to lure him into their grasp, shadows all.

The pathway through the trees to the entrance was dark; the branches were dense overhead and it was dim as nightfall once they reached the ancient structure at last, stopping at the door.  
It was oval, shaped as a mouth set in a human face, and in the threshold stood a dwarf of a man, the smallest he had ever seen, holding a silver tray with a single crystal glass, filled with a deep blue liquid. _Shade of the evening_ , he knew, the wine of warlocks, the drink that gave them their sight. Pyat Pree stood aside, facing him in the low light.  
“Take heed of my words, Master of Ren. The House of the Undying Ones is not a place for mortal men. Mark well all that I tell you, if you value your soul.”  
“...I understand,” Kylo Ren replied, frowning some.  
“The front way leads in, but never out again,” the warlock began, gesturing to the entryway. “When you enter, you will find yourself in a room with four doors: The door you have entered through, and three more. Take the door to your right. Each time, every room, the door to your right. Should you come upon a stairwell, go no way but up. Never down, never left.” Kylo Ren frowned, brow furrowing. Stairs…  
“The door to my right…”  
“And no other. There is no turning back, leaving and coming is the same. Always the door to your right, always up. Other doors, other paths may open to you--within their depths you will see things that delight and disturb you. Visions, Kylo Ren, visions of beauty and terror, visions of wonders, horrors, greatness and doom. Echoes and sights of days long past, days yet to come, and some that shall never be. Those who dwell in these walls may speak to you as you travel. Answer or ignore them as you like--but _enter no room_ until you reach the audience chamber.”  
“I understand.”  
“When you reach their chamber, be patient. The lives of mortals are no more than a fluttering of moth’s wings to them. Listen well to their voices, write each word upon your heart.”

 

Kylo Ren was silent for a long moment, digesting this, until Pyat Pree gestured to the crystal glass.  
“Take and drink,” he urged him, “Should you turn away now, the doors of wisdom will be closed to you forever.” Kylo lifted the glass.  
“What will this do?” He questioned.  
“One glass will serve only to unstop your ears and dissolve the caul from your eyes so you may see and hear the truths laid before you.” Kylo Ren took the glass, and lifted it to his lips.  
The first drink was foul. Like death and decay, like the smell of ink and the taste of rot--but when he swallowed, it was like nothing he had ever drunk in his life. It spread through his body like it was alive, curling strange tendrils of fire around his heart and playing on his tongue like honey and cream, like mother’s milk, like sweet fruit and red meat, blood and wine and gold. It was every taste and somehow none, and before he knew it, the crystal glass was empty.  
“Now, you may enter.”

 

Kylo Ren ducked inside the doorway, and the moment he did, it was as if all of the outside world fell away.

The first chamber was stone; a plain room with three doorways in front of him. He took the door to his right, and found himself in yet another antechamber, this one seemingly identical to the last. Again, the door to his right, again another stone antechamber, this one with not three, but four doors. His brow knit, and for a moment he inspected the small room around him as if he might find some flaw, some strange crack in the illusion, but there was none to be found. Again, the door to his right.

 

This time, he found himself in a strange room, an oval room. It was walled in wood that seemed to seethe and creak, riddled with worm-eaten tracks. There were six doorways in front of him, now. He took a small breath, realizing he was making some kind of progress, and with a fleeting glance, he took the first door to his right.  
Now, he was certain there was magic at work.  
Kylo Ren found himself in a hall--a strange, dim place, with filthy mold-eaten carpet at his feet and high ceiling overhead. To his left, a line of doorways. To his right, only torches hung at intervals to light the way.  
He frowned slightly, taking a breath, and glanced around a moment before starting down the corridor.

The carpet at his feet had been lavish, once. He could still see bits of colored thread, and where closest to the torchlight, gold whorls of thread caught the fire’s glow. He was quiet as he walked, feeling a growing sense of disquiet--the hall was silent, but for his quietly thudding footfalls, and then...there was strange sound, faint, quiet, reminiscent of a dungeon. Scuffling. Scurrying. Scrabbling. _Like rats_ , he thought, _and yet I know they are not, somehow._  
Worse still were the noises from behind the line of doors.  
One shook, thumped, as if there were some creature behind it struggling to free itself. Another barely muffled strange, dissonant music, like an off-tune pipe. And then he came to more, further down, that were not closed.  
He took a breath, continuing on his path, steeling himself against the temptation to look through the archways, but it overcame him in the end.

In one room, a young woman with dark braided hair and almond-shaped eyes lay in a bed of crimson sheets while luminous green snakes slithered over and coiled around her prone body. Her eyes seemed to follow him as if imploring, though her face was a mask of joy.  
Further along he found himself passing a dancing hall filled with laughter, though the dancing bodies seemed spectral, as though they were ghosts swirling throughout a massive chamber. Seated at the back on a high, hulking throne sat a skeleton, silent and observant. On his head was a crown of grass, and within his ribcage still rested a red heart, though it was slowly pouring black smoke into the air from a brilliantly red wound. Kylo’s jaw tightened at this and he wrenched himself away, stalking further down the dim hallway and searching for a door to his right.  
His pace quickened when there was none but as he walked further, a voice slowed his steps. Ahead, a door lay open and Kylo Ren could see daylight painting the air from inside the room it guarded. There was a woman’s laughter, soft and echoing, a laugh he knew in his bones that made his steps falter and slow until he had to force himself to step in front of the doorway, knowing what he might find inside.

A room filled with flowers, decorated in tapestries embroidered with silver wolves and red dragons. Sunlight streamed in through tall windows, some shielded by beautifully wrought lattices of bronze, casting floral shadows over the stone floor. He knew every stone, he knew every leaf on each lattice, knew the tapestries and the smell of the flowers. The laugh echoed through the room to him again from somewhere beyond, and for a moment he nearly stepped forward, a dull ache in his chest, to meet it.  
She was nowhere in sight, however. Instead the room was just as it always had been, so many years ago--summer-warm and filled with her laughter, but then…  
An old maester stepped into the room, his chain clinking softly as he walked. When he saw Kylo standing there he tilted his head in that way he always did when he was being chiding, a patient smile on his weathered old face.  
“There you are!” He beckoned inside at Kylo, starting towards the small wooden table he knew was waiting, “Always flitting off to play. You’ve calligraphy to practice, young prince…”  
Kylo Ren stumbled back a step, resisting the urge to respond to the old maester, his heartbeat going faster in his chest until a woman’s voice drifted to him from beyond the room he could see. She was coming, she was coming into the room, he could hear her, he knew, and he’d see her again--would she still be herself, would she look different, would she be aged as he himself was now--  
_“Did you find him, Maester Tekka?”_ She was drawing closer and before he knew it, Kylo had turned and fled down the hallway again.    
_He’s dead,_ Kylo Ren thought near-frantically, _he’s long dead, only a ghost in this hall…._

 

He didn’t know how far he’d run. He didn’t know how long this damned hallway went on, but the further he kept on the more he was feeling furious and anxious--doors and more doors still, and none to his right. The hallway stretched on before him and he ran harder, trying to find the end, until suddenly he skidded to a stop when a pair of bronze doors opened to him, much larger and grander than all the rest. They swung open as he was passing and seemed to command him to stop and look, and so he did.

Beyond them lay a great stone hall that he knew well, though not like this. It was bathed in shadow and lit but dimly by torches. The skulls of dragons gleaming black and surveying all hung on the walls, the most grand and massive of them all seeming to watch him from above a twisted and barbed throne of swords.  
An old man in hooded cloak lay at the foot of the great chair, body mangled and dashed, and nearby…  
A boy, a boy in dark linens knelt beside the body of a man in black, holding his head aloft. A weak voice, old beyond its years and filled with pain, a death rattle,  
“You were right, my son,” the man said to the boy, tired. “Tell your sister...tell her you were right...” Kylo felt his chest tighten and did not know why. He retreated a few steps, thinking he knew the old man, and yet...when he looked back, the boy was exiting, flanked by two old knights who spoke in voices weathered by war and time.

“That boy is our last hope,” one sighed, while the other only shook his head.  
“No. There is another.”  
Somehow only apprehension filled him when the masters turned as if to look at him, and before he could see their faces he turned and hurried away down the hallway once more.

  


He seemed to walk for an hour more until he came to the end of the hallway, facing nothing but a wall, and...a set of stairs. His brow knit. The stairway descended into darkness, and a noise not unlike a growl rumbled in Kylo’s throat.

Another sound, somewhere behind him.

Kylo Ren frowned. Nothing...but then…  
In the distance, a sound like faint crying. He knew the sound, years past and he knew the sound. He went still for a moment, listening. Another voice from beyond the doors? A sob, and this sounded real. His heart had started beating faster, harder, until it seemed to spur him into motion and he set back down the hall again, footsteps quickly speeding to a jog as he neared the crying. He knew this voice, he knew it like he knew his own. Was its owner...here?  
Up ahead, the hall seemed to be darkening. There was a figure, knelt on the molded and worn carpet, and beyond them down the hall, the torches lining the wall were slowly being snuffed out by some unseen force. Kylo Ren ran the last bit of distance, feeling his heart in his throat as he recognized the girl on the floor, her head held in her hands as she cried.  
Of course it was her. Of course it was her voice. He knew it anywhere, from a dream, or perhaps a vision, or some unknown magic.

“Rey.” He breathed, kneeling down beside her, hovering a gloved hand over one of her arms, not touching her yet. She started when she heard his voice and her face quickly greeted him, her green-gold eyes red-rimmed and glossy with tears. He felt something in his belly constrict, and his hand rested on her wrist.  
“Ky--Kylo…” she gasped, her eyes wide, her voice choked. She looked frightened, but he saw her eyes go to his hand and then back to his face. “You--you’re real, you’re...here…” She gulped, and he nodded, studying her face. She looked so vulnerable just then, still slightly shivering from crying, her cheeks tracked with tears.  
“So are you,” he managed to reply, feeling strangely mute at her presence. Why was she here? What had she seen? He slowly moved her arms away from her head so that he could take her hands, helping her to her feet. Another torch went out, and both of their eyes went to the oncoming darkness as they stood in the middle of the hall.  
“Where does this hall lead,” she asked, sniffing slightly and turning to face him again, “I-I feel like I’ve been walking for hours…” Kylo Ren shook his head, his attention never straying from her hands in his.  
“I don’t know, but we’ve got to keep moving--” he fell silent, and they both slowly turned to face the steadily-approaching dark once more. The torches were guttering out one by one, but something was moving in the dark. There was a sound, slow coming but there, the sound of shuffling, as if something were dragging itself along the carpet towards them. Rey’s hands tightened around his and he turned them towards the end of the hall he’d only just come from. Keeping one of her hands, he urged her along. “Let’s go.”

 

They ran down the hall, passing the same doors that tried to open and lure them to stop. This time neither of them did until they reached the strange stairwell again and Rey looked around quickly.  
“Pyat Pree said never to go down--” Kylo was growling, feeling a mounting sense of dread. Rey was breathing hard and he could feel her heartbeat in his palm, somehow, but all at once she turned to face the darkening hallway again, looked at the last door, and--  
“The last door on the left--it’s--”  
“--The first door on the right--” he finished for her, and she threw open the door so that the both of them could rush through it as one.

Panicked and breathing hard, they were faced with another room like the very first: small and stone, four doors before them. They rushed on, door and door and door once again until they were dizzy with it and then…  
Finally they found themselves in yet another stone chamber, but this time directly across from them was a wide, round door like a mouth, and beyond it was a green courtyard in which stood Pyat Pree. The two of them went still, facing him in confusion, and he looked back at them similarly.  
“So quickly?” He asked them, advancing on the doorway, “Can it be that the Undying have already finished with you?” Beside him, Rey frowned.  
“So quickly?” She repeated, and he looked from her to the blue-lipped warlock outside.  
“It’s been hours,” he said, shaking his head, “And we’ve not found them.” Pyat Pree sighed, shaking his head.  
“You have taken a wrong turn,” he told them, “Let me lead you.” He held out his hand, and Rey hesitated, nearly stepping forward to take it. Kylo looked around, however, and saw there was still another door to their right, and closed. He nudged Rey, and she looked dubious, her brow knitting, but then nodded.  
“That is not the way,” Pyat Pree insisted beyond the round doorway, his blue lips thinning in disapproval, “The Undying will not wait for you forever.”  
“The lives of mortals are no more than a fluttering of moth’s wings to them,” said Rey nearly in unison with Kylo Ren, and they turned together to the door, walking away from him.  
“You will be lost!” the warlock called, “Lost and never found!”  
They did not turn back.  
“No,” Pyat Pree screeched, “To me, to me, come to _meeeeee_!” And as they glanced back his face crumbled, seemed to collapse inward to become something pale and wormlike, and they left the strange creature behind.

 

Now they faced a stairwell, and this time they began to climb. After so long their legs were tiring, and Rey spoke up quietly,  
“This building had no towers,” she remarked, her voice strange. “How can this be…” But Kylo had no answer for her.

Finally the stairway opened and leveled out, and to their right a pair of wide wooden doors were open to them. They were magnificent, made of ebony and pale weirwood, black and white wood seeming to swirl together in patterns. They were beautiful, but somehow unsettling, Kylo thought. _I am the Master of the Knights of Ren,_ he thought, frowning at his own doubts, _Blood of the old Dragons. There is nothing to fear._ Beside him, Rey faced the strange doors with a look of quiet determination on her face, and he wondered at her resolve.

Beyond these doors was a feast hall, and within, a crowd of wizards. They were wonderful to behold, clad in robes of silk and velvet and ermine, cloth of gold, gowns the color of jewels. Some in armor crusted with gemstones, some with tall pointed hats, speckled with stars. Sunlight filtered in through windows shrouded in painted glass, and as they approached the entryway the room seemed alive with the most beautiful music he’d ever heard. As they moved to enter, a kingly man stood and approached them with open arms.  
“Master of the Knights of Ren, child of the desert, come and be welcome!” he greeted, “Come and share the food of forever. We are the Undying of Qarth.” Rey hesitated, however, and did not move even as he began to step into the room.  
“Long have we awaited you,” said a woman nearby, in a dress like sunshine. “We have waited a thousand, thousand seasons for you both!” A warrior clad in golden armor approached now,  
“We have much to share with you--knowledge and truth, magical weapons to arm you with. Come and sit, come and join us, and we will teach you both anything you wish to learn.” Rey’s hand squeezed around Kylo’s, and she did not move, stopping him. He turned to her in confusion but her face was unsure.  
“Something...is not right,” she murmured, and he paused, standing with her.  
“Everything will be righted,” cooed a lovely woman, “Come in, come and join us, and you will see!” Rey took a step further back, and now Kylo followed her. Somehow she was right.

They both glanced around until something caught his eye. A flash of blue, something behind the great doors that were open. They moved around one of the doors and managed to push the massive, heavy door aside to reveal another door behind it, this one closer to the right of the door they’d entered through. It was plain and grey, old and splintering, cracked here and there and they could see something shining faintly inside.  
They entered this room, and everything seemed muted.

 

The chamber was steeped in gloom, filled by a long stone table. Above it floated a human heart, bloated and blue with corruption, but somehow still alive. It pulsed, a strange throb of a sound, and each beat sent out a wash of indigo light.  
There were figures sat around the table, but they seemed no more than blue shadows, not reacting to the presence of he nor Rey, none of them so much as moving when the two of them approached empty seats at the foot of the table. None of them spoke or moved, and the room was silent but for the slow thrum of the rotting blue heart.

_. . . knight of Ren . . ._ came a voice, a whisper and moan, . . . _Ren . . . Ren . . ._ other voices echoed with it in the shadows, male and female alike, old and some with the pitch of a child. The heart continued to beat, keeping the room only dim and then dark, dim and then dark. Kylo felt strangely mute, trying to summon the words to say.  
“I am Kylo, Master of the Knights of Ren, protector of the Iron Throne of Westeros,” But there was no mark of response, “I have come for counsel, for the truth and wisdom of those who have conquered death.”

He could feel Rey at his side, still and quiet, and when he looked to her he found she was looking around at the strange blue bodies sat at the table. They were peculiar things, and as they stood, he did as she did and looked to the Undying One closest to his left. An ancient woman whose gown had rotted on her body. Her flesh was a strange ripe blue, her lips and nails even bluer still, so dark they seemed almost black. Even the whites of her eyes were blue as she sat staring, unseeing, at an old man across the table, wrinkled and hairless, with skin just the same.  
_They aren’t breathing_ , Kylo thought, eyes slowly traveling along the length of the table, _None of them are breathing, and they do not move nor react...Could they be...dead?_ The answer came just as he thought the question, in a voice soft as a whisper of wind.

_. . . we . . . live . . . live . . . live . . ._ it echoed around him somehow, and while he had wondered if Rey heard the same, he felt her tense and look about and knew she did as the myriad of other voices echoed the first, _. . . and . . . know . . . know . . . know . . ._  
“I have come for truth,” Kylo stepped closer to the table, “But only have seen visions--” Rey stepped forward now as well.  
“Please,” she gasped softly, “In the hall, the--the things I saw...what were they?” She asked, “Visions of the future, the past--what...what did they mean?” She sounded almost close to tears and Kylo Ren stood closer to her side  
_. . . they are . . . the shape of shadows . . . days not yet born . . ._  
_. . . drink from the cup of light . . . from the cup of darkness . . ._  
_. . . child of the stars . . . child of shadow . . . children of the ancients . . ._ Kylo did not understand.  
“What…”

_. . . three heads has the dragon . . ._ The voices chattered on. _. . . there must be the place where light and dark meet . . ._ Never did a mouth move, never did a single breath disturb the air, and the whispers were a swirling chorus of song. _. . . three lights will there be . . . one of life and one to wake and one for love . . . three shadows must there be . . . one of death and one to sleep and one for love . . ._ Kylo’s heart, he realized, was in time with the heart that hovered above the table, and still the voices continued _. . . three mounts will you ride . . . one to glory and one to dread and one to love . . ._ Somehow it seemed as if the voices were growing louder as his heart beat slower, his breath came shorter. _. . . three treasons must you know . . . one for blood and one for power and one for love . . ._  
“I don’t…” Rey’s voice, as thin and soft as those that whispered to them both. Her hand had left his, and only now did he notice. “I don’t understand…” Kylo felt heavy, lethargic almost.  
“What does this mean?” He questioned, and his own voice was barely there, just like hers, just like the others, and he did not understand that, either. “Tell us--show us.”  
_. . . tell them . . ._ The voices mocked him. _. . . show them . . ._

 

Phantoms appeared in the darkness, visions they both could see. Kylo, Rey, the Knights of Ren stood and watched as an encampment of Lhazareen shepherds was attacked. A direwolf breathed spears of fire bright as the sun. A single blue rose bloomed from the chest of a falcon and its thorns wove into a crown. _. . . child of stars, child of shadows . . ._ Red light eclipsed the old and tired eyes of a summer king. Rey’s zorse reared in a blaze of bright flames and became smoke that slithered and shifted and blocked the night sky like great black wings. A beautiful woman with flowers in her hair reached out, and with her dying breath murmured a man’s name. _. . . bride of three, king of night . . ._ A dragon the color of starlight writhed, pinned within the claws of a golden harpy. Red flames engulfed a city and from it raced black horses over the land like a plague. A queen in the collar of a slave stood atop the ruins of a vast city. _. . . daughter of the sun, son of the dragons . . ._  


The visions came faster and faster until they hardly seemed visions anymore and Kylo’s mind swam to imagine himself within them. A small girl ran barefoot into the burning sand, leaving a glittering stream in her wake. A mother rocked an empty cradle. A boy lay in the white snow, red blood trailing from him to form skeletal hands. A white raven flew over a grey sea filled with ships. A prince clad in a dragon banner was crowned king by an old queen in wolf’s fur. The air filled with fog and cold and they fell back as skeletal bodies with piercing blue eyes marched, nameless and countless, through a veil of smoke. One with skin cold as snow and a crown of ice atop his head stood at the head of the horde and outstretched his arms, and they could feel icy winds whipping around them, freezing him to his core until he felt paralyzed; biting at his skin, seeming to claw and rip at his clothing until with great effort Kylo shouted and drew his sword, suddenly unable to see Rey beside him. The blade caught flame and his eyes widened at the sight that awaited him when the visions faded to nothing.

 

The Undying were all around them now, blue and cold and whispering incoherent as they grasped at the two of them. Kylo could feel fingers grasping, tugging, tearing at his clothing, scrabbling for purchase at his limbs, but his care was only for the girl he had entered with: the indigo creatures had drug Rey nearly to the ground, pulling at her clothing, her hair, raking at her skin, their mouths on her where they could reach, biting and sucking…  
Wildly Kylo looked around until his eyes found the corrupted and swollen heart above the table. It felt as if his limbs were stone, so great was the effort to move, but he climbed atop the stone table and without second thought, plunged his burning sword into the pulsing blue heart.

All at once the whispers and shuffling turned to screams and the room was awash in red. The heart caught flame and Kylo Ren withdrew, feeling his movements growing more and more fluid and easy as he turned on the Undying Ones now. Rey seemed to have regained movement and was struggling to free herself from their grasp as he leapt to the floor beside her, and with one hand he pulled her to her feet and the other cut through the strange, blue bodies as though they were parchment. Their skin seemed to crumble as they burned, more and more of them catching fire as it spread. As Rey gripped Kylo’s arm tight, they watched the Undying thrash and dance in the flames, glowing bright as they burnt to ash. As if driven by instinct alone, Kylo and Rey both clasped wrists and charged through the blazing mass of them. They were like paper on the wind, falling away from them at the slightest touch. The entire room was ablaze as they reached the doorway, and they did not stop.  
A long dim passageway lay waiting outside, lit by the fireglow behind. They ran, wordless and breathless, searching for a door--anywhere, to the left, the right, but there was only twisting stone and darkness, and a floor that seemed to slither beneath their feet as if trying to trip them. Rey’s grip on his arm only tightened and she urged him to run harder, nearly pulling him along with her momentarily before he caught her stride, and suddenly there was a door ahead of them: a door like an open mouth.

They tumbled out into the sunlight together, the sudden light making them stumble and gasp. Pyat Pree was there waiting, babbling in a tongue neither of them knew and hopping from one foot to the other. Rey pulled him forward to keep running but Kylo Ren glanced back, and saw black smoke beginning to pour from the doorway and seep into the air through cracks in the roof tiles. As they tried to run, Pyat Pree turned and began to rush them, a knife in hand, but Rey swung her body into his as hard as she could and sent him sprawling over the grass.  
Kylo felt her hand find his once again, and his fingers curled around hers, flaming sword still in hand as they ran far, far away from the Palace of Dust.


	15. Rose IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a deal is struck.

The trip by sea had been a long one, and Rose had never been accustomed to water travel. They had spent weeks on the ocean, and when finally their destination port steadily grew closer Rose could not have been more relieved.

“Qarth, my lady,” Finn had come up beside her at the bow of the  _ Falcon _ , watching the strange, foreign city grow and sprawl before them, glimmering with colors in the early morning light. Rose nodded, thinking again of Paige and the task that lay ahead of her. They were here. Finally she could complete this mission and go home.

“You can’t call me that here, Finn,” she admonished, “I’m just Rose here.” Finn shrugged beside her, eyes scanning the new port with interest as she watched him.

“We’re not really ‘here’ yet. You’re still my lady.”

“I’m no one’s lady,” she heaved a sigh, “My sister is the future Lady of the Vale, anyways, and we’re on the same footing. If anything I’m…I’m just your...companion.” The sound of it was more intimate than she intended and she drew herself up, forcing her eyes forward so she could avoid any suspicion about the phrase. “And anyways, you can’t give away who I am to anyone here. We have to remain anon.”

“As you like, my lady,” Finn was turning away to help with the sails when she turned to chastise him again, but she caught the grin on his lips as he retreated and it gave her the faintest flutter in her chest.

 

Chewie and Finn got the  _ Falcon  _ to harbor and the three of them readied to disembark; Rose had wrapped her hair again and looked no more ladylike or significant than anyone else on the docks as they tread towards the entry to the dockmarkets of the great city. Chewie had clearance already; the man was apparently a well-known face here and so there was little to-do about granting he and his party entrance to Qarth when they passed the dockmaster.

Finn had a look of awe plastered on his face as they wandered into the beautiful city, past guards on camels and men and women in robes of every color imaginable, clad in jewelled chains and lacquered masks and feathers, carried along on palanquins or drifting along on grand barges in the canals they passed. Truly, it was all impressive--and yet Rose felt she could hardly spare it all a second glance.  _ I have come here so that I can  _ leave _ this place, _ she thought,  _ I have traveled all the way to this strange jeweled city so that I can travel back home to my sister. _ She had one goal here, and unless any of these glittering and beautiful Qartheen they passed were Maz Kanata, then she had no interest in their garb or their manner.

 

Chewie, however, seemed to know where they were going. Down streets lined with manses and elegant Qartheen watching passers-by from delicate balcony perches, past flowering trees and gardens that echoed with the giggle of marble fountains, until at last they were being escorted into the grounds of a magnificent palace by a woman in silks of all colors and two younger girls in shades of gray. They welcomed them, bid Chewie and his guests to follow, and Rose felt her resolve steel anew. This was it, this was the place, she knew it was, and it was only confirmed as, at the top of the steps leading to the entryway of the grand estate, the woman in her silks smiled serenely.

“Welcome to Takodana, my friends. My employer bids you all to be at ease and leisure here, she will be meeting with you shortly.” Rose felt her heart leap into her throat, but held her tongue. Better to say nothing and risk nothing, rather than potentially reveal them for what they all were to the wrong ears. “Please,” the woman gestured for them to follow her, “Let me show you to your chambers.”

“Chambers?” Finn’s voice came curiously, “What chambers?”

“For you to remain here as my lady’s guests, of course. Please, follow me.” Rose exchanged a glance with Finn, and the two of them looked to Chewie, who only shrugged and followed the woman in silks, and the two of them trailed behind.

 

Rose was escorted separately from the men to a set of beautifully decorated guest chambers draped in pale pink silks and accented with gold and silver and bronze. There were jade ornaments on the walls and ivory statues, wooden cages with beautiful, intricate lattice walls that held little birds that chirped and sang so sweetly they hardly seemed real. Rose was in awe of the opulence of it all; but more so when she was presented to a pair of maids who bowed and informed her they were there to help her bathe and rest after her long journey before she would be seeing their lady that evening.

“But--I’ve come all this way, surely I could speak with her sooner--” she protested, not wanting to delay this any more than she needed to.

“I am afraid our lady will be away until the sun sets as it is. You must be tired after your journey, and we have been instructed to see to your needs until she arrives home and grants you your audience.” Rose took a deep breath, finally nodding in reluctant assent.

“Yes, of course…” And she was led away to what had to be the most grand bath she’d ever seen. A room in marble with wideset columns overlooking green gardens outside, the bathwater sparkling blue in the bathing pool set into the floor. Rose was stripped and bathed, her long hair taken from its coils and washed, oiled, and combed as she reclined in the water, her fingers closing around her half-medallion necklace. She tried not to give in to all of the opulence of this place, but she was tired, that much was true. She’d been tired for weeks now, having found it hard to sleep on the ship and harder still knowing that her sister was waiting for her in that snake pit of a castle. What was she doing now? Was she being properly cared for? Was she eating like she should, was she sleeping? Had she spoken to their parents, had she made contact again with the Resistance? Had someone perhaps come to rescue her in the weeks Rose had been gone? She had no way of knowing any of these things, and that fact alone made her uneasy and afraid.

 

The maids dressed her in pale green silk embroidered with bronze and oiled her hair, her skin where it had grown darker in the sun from sailing, and left her with bowls of fruits and the cheerful reminder that she would be summoned with her companions the moment their lady returned that evening, and then Rose was alone.

She surveyed the splendid bedchamber before her, it’s pale marble walls and wide windows with their silken curtains much more warm and open than any chamber at the Eyrie, more summery even than the Red Keep. It was hot here in Qarth, more than the sea had been, for here the breezes were warm, not the tradewinds that cooled her on the deck of the  _ Falcon _ and sometimes carried the smells of spices from ports nearby. These were warm, and brought little comfort from the heat, and Rose felt one such breeze drift past and lightly ruffle the curtains on the windows overlooking the same green courtyard gardens as there had been outside of the bathing chamber as she stood, listening to the little birds in their lattice cages and the distant sounds of laughter from somewhere beyond her little corner of this estate. She felt very strange here, more a stranger than she had in the Red Keep in this foreign land, in this magical, colorful city she had never seen before. She wanted to speak to Maz Kanata. She wanted to go home.

Instead, Rose climbed onto the large bed in her room and let exhaustion claim her for just a little while.

  
  


Some hours later she woke to the smells of food and noises in her rooms--sounds and scents that would have been very welcomed, had she been home, but that now had her bolting upright in bed. It was dusk outside her bedchamber, the setting sun painting the spaces in her room that it could reach in soft reds and peach-pinks and oranges, fading slowly to violet as servants were outside lighting lanterns and somewhere in another room there were more candles being lit for her use.

As if on cue, two of the maids from that afternoon came rounding the corner into her bedroom with candles and a torch in hand to light them, stopping when they saw she’d woken.

“Good evening, my lady,” they greeted her with twin bows, “Have you rested?” Rose was already getting up and straightening her silk gown.

“Some, yes, thank you--where are my friends?”

“Master Chewie has been in the city all afternoon. The younger man has been resting as well.” Rose stifled a giggle at ‘Master Chewie’, but the maids seemed to know him, which did put her a bit more at ease. She trusted the old pirate, strange as he seemed. If these people knew him then it meant he had been here often enough to build a sort of relationship with them, and that was a comforting thought. Perhaps she did not need to worry so much about what sort of person their host was.

“Thank you,” she gave a small bow of her head.

“There will be supper in this wing for your traveling party shortly, if you would follow us, we can lead you to the dining hall.” Rose nodded, idly trying to smooth down the unruly locks of hair that always seemed to frame her face but, as ever, to no avail.

“Yes--I--yes, that sounds very good, thank you…”

 

The dining hall, while small, was every bit as lovely and luxurious as the bedrooms. Tapestries hung around the room, illuminated by torches in gold fixtures sculpted to look like flowering vines. A long table sat at the center of the room surrounded by chairs in all manner of shape and size, with cushions and accents of all different colors as if they’d been collected at random, rather than purchased as a set. The table itself was being laden with dishes that Rose could have smelled down the hall; fishes in all sizes, fish she had never seen before. Pomegranates as large as her head, halved so that the ripe red seeds spilled forth onto the plates, big as rubies. Bowls of wine with onions and purple olives, breads that smelled sweet and sour and of lush spices Rose’s senses could not place, and her stomach clenched at the sight and smell of all of it. She’d not had a real proper meal in weeks, and just seeing so much food made her mouth water.

Behind her, there was a sound that made her turn, and suddenly there was Finn striding eagerly into the room, eyeing the feast in front of them.

“Seven Hells, this is all for us?” He exclaimed, and Rose could only watch as he made his way to the table to sit, where he was immediately approached by a maid with a pitcher of wine. Rose was escorted to sit across from him and given her own wine in turn, but she took a moment to look him over as he sat staring at the food.

 

In the candlelight he looked warm and vital and rested, just as lively as ever; he’d had a shave, from the look of it: his hair had been cropped short again, but while he hadn’t the scruff on his jaw that he’d accumulated at sea, he hadn’t gone fully clean-shaven again either. He looked older this way, and when their eyes caught across the table and he grinned at her, Rose coughed and felt herself go a bit red with embarrassment at having been caught staring.

“I’m  _ starved _ ,” he groaned at her as they were joined at last by the third member of their party, Chewie, who sat just down the table from all of them with a grunted greeting. Rose gave a nod of her head and a smile and Finn greeted him enthusiastically, but when Rose turned to look back at the food again, she swore she saw Finn watching her before he turned away.

 

The sun had set and around them the candlelight was becoming brighter as outside the night grew darker, and Rose grew more and more impatient as the moments passed. They’d begun eating in comfortable enough silence, but this was dampening her appetite: Where was their host? If she was right and this host of theirs was indeed Maz Kanata, then she wanted to have the audience already--she’d been told all day that the lady of the estate would be home in the evening, and yet still they supped alone. Chewie seemed content enough and that did not surprise her but Finn’s complacency was frustrating. He’d wanted to see an end to Snoke’s reign too, but why was he not as eager to continue their journey as she was?

She had to steady herself at that thought. It made sense that he was not as zealous as she was. He’d run from them but she had family in this, she’d been aiding the Resistance and part of the war for years now mostly through her sister. This was something her life was dedicated to, she couldn’t expect someone else to feel the same, not when they hadn’t had the upbringing she had. Finn...she wondered what his life had been like, truly. He’d talked about the other stormtroopers he’d fought and lived with, and he’d made them sound...human. Rose had never seen the soldiers in their pale helmets as anything but suits of armor, but if Finn was the way he was, she wondered what that said for the rest of them. Once, they had been children just the same as any others, just like she had been.

 

It was near the end of their meal, just as Finn was looking like he was about to speak and break the silence when there was some amount of commotion in the halls.

“Where is he! Where is my pirate lord!” came the commanding voice of a woman, surprisingly, and more surprising still was the fact that Chewie was on his feet just as soon as they heard the woman’s voice. Rose paused mid-drink, and Finn had turned to watch the doorway as a positively ancient woman burst into the room, jingling with bracelets and medallions on necklaces and belts around her tiny figure. She was small as a child with her round head wrapped in scarves and her leathery skin as red-brown as dried cherrywood. Rose watched, stunned, as she let out a pleased shout and allowed Chewie to lift her off the ground and into an embrace.

“You have been away  _ far too long _ , you great giant. You’ve missed things!” She patted his hairy cheek with a thin hand, and Chewie made a gruff sound as he set her on the ground once more, though now her face was lined with something else that was far from mirth. “There are other visitors here, ones I fear will leave very soon. But there is a girl with them…” Chewie seemed to regard her curiously, but the small woman only shook her head, waving the thought off for now before coming to take a seat near Rose at the table. “That is talk for another time, after we have had our fill of this food, hm?” She turned to Rose inquiringly, beady black eyes regarding her as if they could see right through her. Momentarily, Rose was reminded of the dragon skulls in the catacombs of the Red Keep, but she shook the thought away immediately, setting her cup down to meet the old woman’s eyes. “Who are you?”

 

Finally, what she’d been waiting for. Rose turned in her seat to better face the woman, swallowing and straightening her back.

“I--I’ve come here to find Maz Kanata.” The woman nodded, helping herself to a cup of wine.

“Well, you’ve found her.” She took a drink of wine and grabbed a honeyed roll of bread from one of the platters on the table, looking at Rose again as she took a bite. “But I asked who you are, not why you have come here.” Rose gulped, taking a breath.

“I...I am Rose of House Arryn, daughter of Osric Arryn, the Warden of the East and Defender of the Vale.” Maz Kanata looked amused, nodding along.

“That is quite a name. Why have you come looking for me, Rose of House Arryn, daughter of Osric Arryn, the Warden of the East and Defender of the Vale?” Rose colored at this.

“I--” she had had enough of all of this runaround, all of the waiting and the uncertainty, and she abruptly stood from her chair, red in the face with her brow knit. “I was sent--I’ve come here for the Resistance!” She nearly barked, “I am here in place of my sister, Paige Arryn, on behalf of the Resistance and Lady Leia Stark! Please, my lady, I have traveled a great distance to come here and find you, and I have waited long enough--we need help! I was sent here because we need to find Lucerys Targaryen, and the Resistance believes you might be our best chance.”

The old woman’s face was a mask of calm in the face of Rose’s outburst, the rest of the room silent.

“So you’ve come looking for Luke…” Maz sighed at length, her gaze cast downwards slightly. “Sit, my girl. Sit.” She gestured at Rose, and after a moment Rose did take her seat again, if a bit stiffly. Across the table, Finn leaned in, his eyes wide and curious.

“So you know him.” He affirmed, “You can help us find him?” Maz heaved another sigh, taking a long drink of wine.

“I do know him,” she agreed, “As I knew his father, once, and his mother.” She set her cup down with a sound that seemed far too loud for the quiet dining hall. “But I am afraid I cannot help you.” Rose watched as Finn’s excited expression fell.

“What?” Rose turned to Maz now herself.

“There has to be something--” she felt her heartbeat quicken, panic beginning to settle into her. Had they come all this way--taken  _ all of this time _ \--all for nothing?! “There has to be something you can tell us, something to help--anything!” she pleaded desperately with the tiny woman, and Maz looked truly sorry.

“Luke disappeared years ago, child, and I truly believe he wished to never be found. For him to leave his sister behind, whatever his reasons were must have truly been dire.” Rose’s chest clenched.

“But--we’ve come all this way, we’ve wasted time, if you can’t help us, then--then…” As she thought of Paige, holding out hope alone in King’s Landing, her eyes filled with hot, anguished tears and her hands fisted in her lap. “Please, there must be something--anything you know that can help us. Please!”

There was a sound from Chewie, and Maz glanced over at him before falling silent again, looking deep in thought.

“There may be  _ something _ ,” she admitted finally, and Rose’s breath hitched as she listened. “A ship. There was a ship, years ago, that brought to me something of Luke’s. The captain claimed they had come from Volantis, but the ship did not look it.” Her brow knit, nearly invisible eyebrows furrowing. “I know their colors, and they were not Volantene. That ship came from the north, from Pentos or Braavos.” She shook her head, sighing again, her expression softening once more. “But that is all I can offer you. Many of your Westerosi come to Essos to disappear, child; and in cities like Pentos, Braavos, Tyrosh, Volantis, even Myr...a man can never be seen again.” Rose felt gutted, but Finn spoke up again.

“But--but it’s possible, isn’t it? That he could still be there, that he could still be found?” Maz looked at him with a strange expression on her old face before nodding slowly.

“Anything is possible, my boy.” She gazed down at her cup of wine, and Rose swallowed, holding onto the words. She set her jaw as she and Finn left the table, and behind them she could hear Maz’s voice, soft and strange, “Anything is possible.”

 

They were in the halls, Rose striding through the palace to clear her head. Finn had followed after her, and now the both of them were walking out into one of the lantern-lit courtyards, through groves of sweet-smelling trees and green bushes.

“We have to try. If anyone knows him, if anyone can find him or help us find him…” She’d come this far already. Paige had told her to be a hero,  _ know right from wrong, and don’t run away when it gets hard. _ This was hard, this was the hardest decision she’d had to make yet, but Rose wouldn’t run away. “We have to try.” Finn took a deep breath, nodding and stopping on the walkway to look down at her.

“If we do this, we could be traveling for months,” he said in a low voice, his eyes stern. “And neither one of us knows this place. We’d need to find a way to--to whereever she was talking about, because…” Rose exhaled slowly.

“Chewie needs to go back. He needs to go back, he could find Lady Stark and tell her what’s happening. If there’s anyone who could, it’s him.” Finn nodded.

“Which leaves us with no boat.” Rose bit her lip.

“We’d have to find someone to take us there.”

“Take you where?”

The two of them looked up at the sound of a new voice, a girl’s voice, and found themselves facing a young woman they hadn’t even heard approaching. She was tall and slim, in orange trousers and linens the color of sand. She had a young face, Rose thought she couldn’t be much older than herself, with eyes that made Rose’s skin prickle, somehow. She was looking at them quizzically, dark brown hair knotted at the back of her head while a few loose strands hung around her face, and when she spoke again she spoke the common tongue, but there was an accent there that Rose could not place.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but...if you’re in need of a guide, then I may be able to help you.” She walked up to stand with the two of them, just a bit taller than Rose and shorter than Finn, who was currently staring at her rather unabashedly. Rose regarded her a bit cautiously, still.

“We need to get to Pentos,” she said slowly, and the girl’s face lit up.

“Pentos! That’s perfect--I can get you there, absolutely!” She seemed excited for some reason, and Rose’s brow knit slightly.

“Who are you?” The girl gave her a broad, friendly smile.

“I’m Rey,” she said earnestly, “I’m a guide here, I ferry travelers through the Red Waste--Pentos is a ways north, but I can get you there,” her gaze was knowing, now, “And I can get you there without using the main roads.”

“That’s perfect!” Finn exclaimed, leaning in and keeping his voice down, “We need to get there fast, can you do that?” Rey nodded, smiling.

“I can do it.”

“How much is this going to cost us?” Rose watched her expectantly, knowing this couldn’t be for free. Rey took a breath, wetting her lips and looking away.

“If you’ve got food, then I’ll just ask that you share it,” she answered. “You two seem like you’re in a hurry, and I’m...I’m trying to get as far away from Slaver’s Bay as I can.” Rose’s eyes studied the girl’s face as she said this, and something in her voice and in her expression made Rose nod.

“Okay.” Rey turned to look at her again, slowly smiling as Rose nodded her head, “We have a deal, then, Rey.” She finally returned the smile. “My name is Rose,” she said quietly, “And this is my friend, Finn.” Finn grinned at them both.

“So, when do we leave?”


	16. Kylo IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there comes a realization.

In the stream of hours following his journey into the House of the Undying, Kylo Ren felt about as unmoored as a person could feel, he supposed.  
His head was swimming, full to the brim still of visions and sounds, things he had no way of knowing the truth of but things that he had not been alone in seeing, that much he knew.

Rey’s hand had been tight in his as they ran from the strange, ancient building and its secrets, his heartbeat straining to drown out the pervading sound of whispers in his ears.  _ Three heads has the dragon . . . there must be the place where light and dark meet.  _ The dragon always had three heads, his entire lineage was based upon that. But a place where light and dark met...that, he did not know. The talk of light and shadow...his eyes had wandered to Rey, and he had known, in that moment, what at least some of this strange prophecy meant. Why he had known her, why he had been dreaming of her his whole life. She  _ was _ light. ‘Child of the sun’, the warlocks had whispered, and he knew it was her. If she was light, then he was shadow; but all the same, that realization brought him no closer to understanding the rest of the strange, foreboding words. What he did understand perhaps a bit better, though, was that she was what he’d been waiting his entire life to find.

Now he only had to figure out  _ why _ .

Upon their return to Takodana, Rey had seemed strange--doubtless their experience had taken its toll on her; he knew she’d been in pain when he’d found her there, even if he did not know what she’d seen. He wanted to know. He wanted to ask her, he wanted to know everything: what had she seen before he’d found her? Did she know, like he knew, that they had been meant to find each other? Would she tell him she had been dreaming of him, too? Did she have insights he did not?  
He did not get the chance to ask her. She quickly excused herself, saying she was in need of rest, and a bit dumbstruck he’d let her go, the loss of warmth from her palm making his hand flex in his glove.

The knights were quick to ask what was going on, at least. Eagerly they all but stormed his chambers once he’d returned, excitedly rushing him and pressing for information.  
“What happened?”

“What did they say?”

“Were they real warlocks?” Asteria peered at him curiously, perched on the arm of one of the chairs that Solea, her arms folded over her chest, was seated in.

“Looks like he found nothing, by his face.”

“Bunch of dust and old bones?” Krytha laughed, but Nuaala watched him silently before hushing the laughing women.

“What happened, Kylo?” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes pensive in her scarred face. Kylo took a deep breath, standing at one of the latticed windows, pushing the gauzy curtain aside slightly to gaze out at the courtyard. Somewhere near here were Rey’s chambers. Just last night he’d been standing out in that grove of trees with her, and the memory of her in the gown he’d bought her… He ran a hand over the lower half of his face.

“If I can begin to make sense of it all, I’ll tell you everything.”

If he could. His thoughts were with Rey right then, as maddening and strangely soothing as that was.

  
  


Night fell upon him prowling the gardens again, deep in thought, trying to sort out the visions and the words of the Undying. Could he even trust these things? His thoughts had, more than once, drifted to some of the things he had seen, some of the visions they had shown the both of them, and he knew there was truth to it. The things that had passed, the things he had seen already himself, things these ancient warlocks would have no way of knowing, those things made him believe. He’d lost track of the hours by the time the lanterns were being lit around him, and it wasn’t long after that he saw her.

Clad in the same orange silk trousers and pale linens she’d been in during the day, he wondered if she had gotten any rest at all since she’d left him earlier in the day. She paused her steps when she saw him, but did not stop, even if she did slow down until she stood near him again. Even like this, she was pretty--lantern light glowed on her skin softer than sunlight and painted her gold until she drifted under the copse of trees into the shadows with him, and then only her eyes caught the light, glowing up at him in the dark.

“Hello,” was all she offered, her voice soft and uncertain. She looked tired; he knew she must have spent the afternoon as he had.

“I haven’t rested since we returned.” She looked up at him as if surprised by his blunt reply, but nodded slowly.

“...Nor I.” She looked down, “That strange place...those visions…” She looked back up at him and her eyes were pleading. “Did you see what I saw, in that cold room?” She asked him in hushed tones, “Did you--did you see those things--all of those visions…Those voices…” He nodded, reaching out with a hesitant hand and resting it on her arm when she did not shy away from him. There was something that ignited in him when his bare hand touched her skin, and he knew she felt it too.

“I saw them, I heard them, just as you did,” he reassured her. She shook her head slowly,

“What  _ were _ they?” She asked quietly, “What did all of it  _ mean _ ?” Suddenly her eyes glazed over and he watched her lips tremble. “What  _ was _ all of that--those things I saw in the doors, I…” She ducked her head and he could feel her trembling under his hand, could hear the tears in her voice. “Things I had long since hoped to forget. Things no one else could possibly know--how...how did I see them there?” She sounded so small and hopeless, and upon pure instinct he rested both hands on her upper arms, leaning in slightly to catch her attention again.

“A conversation, I think, better suited to the indoors here.” When she looked up at him, her face was tracked with tears and something in his chest ached at the sight of it, wanted to touch her face, but he refrained. She nodded, and with a gentleness he could not have explained, he led her back inside, and into his chambers.

  
  


 

“‘The cup of light and the cup of darkness’, what does that even mean?” Rey was seated near the fireplace, staring into the flames. Kylo had been pacing, deep in thought.

“It isn’t literal,” he replied a bit tersely. “It’s—it’s...a prophecy. They’re never literal.” It was a somewhat poor response but he wasn’t sure what else to tell her. It wasn’t actual cups, this was just…speech.

“But that makes even  _ less _ sense!” Rey looked helpless, and he sighed, turning to her from across the fireplace, watching the flames color her like red gold.

“Rey just  _ think, _ ” he told her, “It...they meant to compare light and dark. That was what it was,” and then, perhaps more to himself, “It  _ has _ to have been.”

“They spoke of...three lights, and mounts, and three...three treasons,” she said quietly, and he saw her eyes still on the fire. He nodded, stepping closer to her.

“Rey...I believe the prophecy means the two of us.” He watched as she looked up at him, her green-gold eyes glowing in the firelight.  _ Yes, _ he thought, taking a step closer,  _ I know who you are, and you know who I am. _

“The dreams,” she whispered, and he heard fear in her voice, “...They were of you. All these years, all of them…”

“I dreamed of you,” he told her, a plea in his voice that he had not intended. “Just as you dreamt of me, so did I of you.” She had to understand. He knew that she knew what he meant, that she knew what he was talking about.

“But...if all of that was real...then how...how is that  _ possible _ ?” her voice was barely a whisper as she stared up at him, and he shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, “There is old magic still in this world, even if the dragons are gone.” There was something...a flicker of something in her eyes just then, but he did not know what it was or why it had been there. “I don’t know how. I don’t know why--but we met for a reason. And now the words of the Undying…” The prophecies they had been given were about the two of them. The visions had been meant for both of them to see. He knew her, by now; perhaps not fully, but he knew her. She believed him.

“I’ve made a promise,” she said suddenly, slowly getting to her feet just then, “I’ve promised to guide more travelers through the Waste--” His hand was on her arm before he could think to stop himself.

“You can’t--” She looked as if she were going to recoil from him, her eyes on his.

“I’ve given my word,” she said lowly, “I have to leave this place, and staying near Meereen is--” She looked away, and his fingers tightened around her arm.

“You can’t leave now, not after all of this--not after what we’ve discovered!” He felt a tremor in his voice, an edge there now at the thought she might slip through his fingers. Her brow furrowed as his eyes searched her face.

“What do you want me to do?” She asked him in a hushed voice, “Sail back to Westeros with you?” There was something in her eyes again, and a tone in her voice that  _changed_ ; made his grip lessen and sent a chill up his spine. “I know who waits for you. I know you’re afraid of him,” she whispered. “You don’t want me to return with you--I’ve seen your dreams. There is a shadow that waits for you in that place, the same shadow that found you--”

“ _Quiet!_ ” It was the first word he could muster, hissing it out to silence her. He knew she’d seen his past, he knew she’d seen him in dreams, but he hadn’t realized that meant she knew Snoke, and that was his own foolish mistake. Of course she knew who Snoke was, of course she had seen….

She’d pulled out of his grasp when he snapped out of his thoughts, staring at him still.

“I can’t go back there with you,” she said, shaking her head. “Even you don’t know what he would do if he were to discover this, do you?” His throat constricted.

“We could hide this,” he pressed, “He wouldn’t have to know. If you were there--he wouldn’t need to know who you are, you would be undetected, I could hide you from him--” Rey’s brow had knit again and she looked frightened.

“You don’t know that--”

“I could keep you safe!”

The room seemed to go very still as they watched each other, the only sound that could be heard the quiet crackling of the fire beside them. His hand still extended towards her, he bid her silently to come closer again, to agree to this, to assure him he would not lose her now that he had found her.

“My entire life I have been searching for you,” his voice was laden with something he could not name, heavy with an emotion he did not understand. “For years, thinking perhaps I had only dreamt you up. I was meant to find you,” he pressed on, “And you to find me. You know I speak the truth. You know it, I see it in your eyes!” She’d stood her ground, but her arms were held to her chest. She was afraid, he knew she was; afraid to know and acknowledge that there was something greater than herself, that she was part of something beyond her control. But now...now they had one another. He understood her, and she understood him.

“Don’t be afraid,” he pleaded quietly, stepping just slightly closer, “I feel it too.”

Instead of taking his hand, Rey sucked in a trembling breath and fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come yell at me on twitter](https://twitter.com/binarysvnrise)


	17. Rey IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a price is paid.

She had not slept that night.

The following day was spent in her chambers hoping Kylo Ren would not come to her until finally near the afternoon, she fell asleep at last.  
Her sleep, even, was tumultuous. She dreamed of things long passed, things she had seen that day, voices and places she had never known. She dreamt of the Undying ones. She dreamt, once more, of Kylo Ren.  
The visions repeated themselves, at least in part, but they shifted and she saw new things, things the blue ghouls had not shown them. 

 

 

She stood holding the dragon eggs in an endless sea of grass, a sky of stars above and before her a great flaming pyre. As she watched it heaved and billowed a cloud of smoke into the sky that began to take shape as she felt the weight of the eggs in her arms begin to shift and shudder with life. The flames popped and the eggs cracked open, and without warning she was stumbling back, empty-handed now and staring up at the blazing sun. At her feet was nothing but dust and rubble, and as the wind blew it whipped dust around her until she had to shield her eyes, and when the wind stopped and she lowered her arm again she was somewhere dim and warm, in the arms of a lover whose face she could not see. Rey writhed and moaned under his touch, more real than she could remember dreams before, but as she threw her head back at last in ecstasy she found her voice gone and the air turned cold and so silent she feared she’d gone deaf. Snow fell upon dark stone walls around her, a keep abandoned and solemn. She made her way through an empty courtyard towards an open gateway, snow crunching beneath her feet, her breath fogging the air. Something called to her here, beckoning her from the dark trees beyond, but the closer she drew to the gate the more the air began to fog until she could not see, fumbling in the mist until blue eyes began approaching her and Rey felt her heart go still with fear. They marched, countless bodies, an army of dead soldiers, their bodies crusted with frost. Their leader’s eyes pierced through her like a knife until he began to raise a hand towards her, and panicking Rey screamed only one word: “ _ Dracarys!” _

 

 

And just like that, she was awake. In the soft light of the candles in her rooms, she could see the chest Maz had brought her, the chest she had not mentioned to Kylo Ren. She drifted over to it now and lifted the lid as if in a trance, and firelight then played over the strange, shifting steel of the sword, and the long-dormant shells of the two dragon eggs. With hesitant hand, she reached out to very lightly graze her fingertips over the pale ridges crusting the white egg. It was hard, and still, and cool to the touch. Rey’s whole body seemed to sag at this realization, and she exhaled a long breath. Dragon eggs. These had been long since dead, if they’d ever meant to hatch at all—likely it was some mistake that now they were in her hands.

Her mind returned to her strange dream, the pyre blazing in the night, the eggs shivering to life in her arms as it burned.

There was a fireplace in her room now. The fire itself was low but still burning, small enough for her to get close--Rey stopped herself before picking up either of the eggs. What was it she was thinking of doing here? Placing them in the fire? Her brow knit at this as she gazed down at them now, softly gleaming black, red, white, gold, back up at her. They were dragon eggs, that much she’d gathered, but the last dragons had died centuries ago from what she’d learned talking to Kylo Ren. If that was true, then these eggs had to be, also, centuries old--how could they have survived that long to hatch now?

Rey moved to turn away from them, but something stopped her, and slowly she stepped closer again. She could still feel the eggs cracking open in her grasp as if it had been real, burning hot in her arms, hot as living fire. If her dreams of Kylo Ren had been real, then what was to say these new dreams were not? Using that as her rationale, she covered the sword with the old cloak that it and the eggs were nestled in, hefted both eggs into her arms, and then slowly, carefully, placed them on the coals in the fireplace.

 

Around them, the fire crackled and popped for a moment and Rey’s eyes grew wide, her heart starting to pound in her chest, but then the noises stopped, and the fire burned on as it had, flames only licking the sides of the stone eggs but nothing more. A breath slipped out of her in defeat, and until the flames burned down, Rey sat in front of the hearth with her knees tucked to her chin watching the fire burn out. She didn’t know what she’d expected to happen. She shouldn’t have expected anything at all, she chided herself, but she knew she had believed that dream. 

Sleep would not come easy. She tossed and turned in bed until she was exhausted, lying in the dark and staring at the twin shapes of the dragon eggs still nestled in the coals. They were just as dead as the fire now, and no amount of heat would change that. Whatever magic was at work with her dreams could not create life where there was none.  
She spent the remainder of the night in the stables with her zorse, and finally fell asleep once more in its stall, nestled against its side as she always had.

  
  


The following morning, she woke to a servant gently rousing her to leave the stables. She didn’t want to leave; but she compromised when she was told her zorse would be permitted in the courtyard behind her chambers. The rust-colored animal followed her back until it could graze in the grass under the trees outside, and inside, the dragon eggs had been returned to the chest once again, nestled beside the old sword, quiet and hard and still.

Rey perched on one of the broad windowsills to just watch her zorse until there again, she fell asleep, lulled by the quiet sounds of her zorse grazing and the birds throughout the property. There was faraway laughter and voices but they were nowhere close, nowhere she could hear even the words they were speaking. Her companions would leave with her in two days’ time. She liked them, she thought. They had spent time talking that night, and immediately she had liked Finn and Rose. Finn had a friendly, open face, and Rose was polite and seemed kind. The foreign girl was clever, too--she had been the one to suggest they trade items to ensure trust, and Rey had been happy to comply. A clever traveler was a good one, and a welcome companion to her; the two of them had given her a satchel of gold, and Rey had given them the gown Kylo Ren had given to her.

Kylo Ren...Somewhere else in the palace, Kylo Ren lurked--she could hear his voice as she slowly drifted to sleep.  _ I could keep you safe. _ Safe from the darkest of shadows she had ever seen, a shadow that had hold of him, and had ever since he was a child. A shadow that she had always thought was her own imagination creating nightmares. She’d thought that was all the dreams ever were, just dreams. Just strange dreams, of a boy who was not real, a boy she would never know.  _ Don’t be afraid, I feel it too. _ She buried her face against her arms, tucking her knees close, and fell asleep thinking of the strange, bare look in Kylo Ren’s eyes as he had stared at her before.

 

 

She watched an old king fall under a red sword held by Kylo Ren. When the man’s body was crumpled at his feet he turned to face her, and his eyes were dark and sad. A voice echoed through the room, out of time and place, and made Rey shiver, Y _ ou will return to this place, foreign girl, daughter of the sun.  _ Rey spun around wildly, trying to find the voice’s owner and seeing only shifting shadows. The voice came again, words seeming to caress her in the writhing darkness.  _ You will be lover to a great shadow, and give life to stone.  _ The shadows suddenly gave way to light and she smelled flowers and salt and spices, heard a woman’s voice from behind her, weak and sad and so, so familiar,  _ There is still good in him--I know...I know there is… _ But when she spun around to find her she stood before the massive, black maw of a dragon, and her entire body went still. Red eyes stared at her inside a great scaled head, and seemed to know her, to see right into her--and as thin tendrils of smoke rose from its nostrils, it stared at her as if expecting something. She reached a hand out to touch it only to be standing, palm-to-palm, with Kylo Ren.

In the dream, the vision, he stared at her as if he were seeing her, and perhaps he was. His hand flexed against hers and she could feel every muscle in his palm, every shift of his large fingers against hers. 

She opened her mouth to speak, and suddenly she was awake, lying on her bed in her strange Qartheen chambers, gazing up at the ceiling. 

 

 

Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized the candles were lit, and night had fallen outside--but she was alone still. The maids must have moved her, she thought, her eyes straying down to her hand draped over her chest, the same hand she had reached out with in her dream. There was warmth on her palm. Her fingers flexed and she could still recall the feeling of Kylo Ren’s hand on hers, and a shiver ran up her spine.

He _was_ the boy from her dreams. She knew--she had known the day she’d seen his face. She knew the curl of his hair, the slope of his nose, every mark on his face. She had thought her lonely mind had invented him when she was a child herself, this boy who she could see in her dreams, running in the strange white cold, but now she knew he had seen her too. Had he known, when he’d seen her? Had he recognized her?  
She had no family. She had befriended travelers and Dothraki riders, traders and pilgrims and priests, but they came and went. She had no home, no name; she would return to the Waste as she always did and he would sail home to his castle--but would she still dream of him now? Would he still dream of her? Did she _want_ that?  
He understood her. Somehow, he knew her, somehow she knew him, and because of that she knew she could not return to Westeros with him, but likewise…

Shaking these thoughts away, she turned to the dragon eggs. If these dreams were real, if her dreams all along had been real, then perhaps there was something she could do, perhaps she was truly meant to have these eggs. 

Once again, she brought them to the fireplace. The flames were higher now than they had been the night before, and one by one, Rey placed them onto the coals. More than once the flames licked at her hands and she recoiled, but thankfully hadn’t been burnt, nor had she dropped the eggs. After a time, she stood up from watching the flames, thinking to go and see her zorse outside, but there was a sound that made her stop. A noise at the door, one she thought could have been her imagination until it came again.

 

Kylo Ren stood outside her chambers, clad in his usual dark linens. He looked somewhat disheveled, sword at his hip as though he had been wandering the city before finding her door. Rey swallowed, facing him.

“Kylo Ren.” He wet his lips, hesitating before she could see him swallow while he looked at her.

“Rey.” There was another beat before he took a breath and Rey stepped aside, anticipating his question.

“Come in,” she nodded quietly, and for a moment he only stared at her in surprise before nodding and letting her shut the door behind them. He seemed somehow distracted, and when he turned to face her again she understood why.

“The dream,” he started a bit hoarsely, “You saw it too.” Rey’s eyes widened and she felt herself go still. Could he mean the dream she’d only just woken from earlier? Had that been shared--had they really met in that strange vision?

“What dream?” She whispered, almost afraid to know if she was right in her assumptions. He advanced a step towards her.

“The dragon dream,” he pressed, his eyes strangely wild to her. “I saw you--I saw a dragon, and it became  _ you _ . I felt--” He brought a hand up, fingers flexing as he looked at his palm and Rey knew, she knew what he meant. “--I  _ felt _ you. I felt your hand--you felt mine, didn’t you?” He stared at her imploringly, begging her for an answer. Rey could hardly breathe.

“It was real…” she managed, “That really was you…” He nodded, looking relieved.

“You saw it--you felt it, you understand--” he took another step towards her and she did not back away. “We shared that dream. You and I--whatever dream or vision that was, we both saw it. We were there,  _ together! _ ” Rey shook her head slowly.

“But how can that be?” He shook his head back.

“I don’t...this is... _ magic _ ,” he breathed finally, “This is some kind of...of  _ magic.” _  Rey couldn’t disagree with him.

 

Slowly, his hand found hers. The same hands they had touched in the dream now met again, and Rey gasped softly at the strange feeling that rushed through her when they did. Like fire searing through her blood, burning in a way that made her feel  _ alive _ . Her eyes found Kylo Ren’s, and she knew he felt the same as she did. Whatever this was, whatever they were feeling, whatever magic there was between them, she did not know, but this was  _ real-- _ and as he leaned down to kiss her, her lips met his and she thought of the dragon eggs, of the great black dragon in her dream.  _ If there is magic that can bind two dreams then there must be magic that can wake dragons again, _ she thought idly, but there was other magic at work just then as she wrapped her arms around Kylo Ren’s neck, and let him draw her in flush against his chest.

His kiss was hungry and burning, his arms tight and his large hands pressing her close as if he sought to devour her. Rey could not recall ever being kissed this way, this intensely, this desperately, and she let herself give in to it, to him. The boy with sad eyes who had grown into a man that looked at her as if she were a dragon herself, who held her now as if he did not want to let her go. Rey kissed him in return and wondered what it might be like if she were to return with him. If he really, truly could keep her safe. She would not be a lady, she would be hidden--but was that what she wanted? And to be hidden...she would be kept somewhere, it meant, to be unseen and unknown.  
Why did his kiss make her question that?

 

They stumbled through the room until they stopped near the fireplace, but there again there was a sudden knock at her door. Rey gasped for breath as the two of them immediately broke apart, turning to the door in surprise.

“Who--” Rey shook her head, going to answer it when there came another set of knocks. As she opened the door only a fraction, there stood Finn, his voice hushed.

“Rey. I know it’s late, we’ve gathered supplies, we can leave tomorrow. Rose is sending word, Chewie’s sailing out in the morning.” Rey’s eyes widened slightly and she nodded slowly,

“I...all right, yes…” Finn peered at her oddly.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes--I’m fine, yes. Just a bit tired,” she lied, and he nodded.

“All right. Tomorrow night when the sun sets, then?” Rey nodded.

“Yes. Tomorrow at sunset.” They exchanged goodnights, but when Rey turned back to face Kylo Ren she found him staring at the fireplace in shock.

 

Carefully slowly, she came closer to him until he broke the silence.

“Where...where did you get these?” his voice was hushed, stunned and quiet. Rey swallowed.

“They were a gift--they...I…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He turned to her, and she saw awe but also rage in his eyes, and it made her step back.

“They were only just given to me--I did not understand why, or--”

“What are you doing--why are they in the fire--” he’d started towards her slowly and Rey shook her head, facing him. Why was he acting so strangely now?

“I--I had a dream,” she said firmly, and his brow knit at her.

“Why would they have been given to you?” She felt her chest tighten slightly.

“I...I don’t...know.”

“Why  _ you _ \--you’re no one, you’ve no idea what these mean--”

“They’re dragon eggs!” She snapped, “I understand what they are! I don’t know why--I was told that I was meant to have them! That they had been waiting for me! She said the gods told her, the red priests told her, they said the eggs were waiting for the sister of stars--” she felt angry, defending herself like this, but how could  _ he _ be angry with her? “ _ Shierak Inavva _ \--that’s who I am, that’s what I am called, the sister of stars!” He was frowning, looking back at the eggs again, and she did not understand how they had come to this from where they had been before they were interrupted.

“You cannot take these people across the Waste.” His voice startled her, quiet and final. Rey’s brow furrowed.

“What?”

“You will return to King’s Landing with me. You,” he nodded at the fireplace, gesturing with one hand. “And the eggs.” She stared, dumbstruck. There was nothing in his voice--no weight, no softness, no  _ emotion _ —and the corners of her lips began to tug downward. Had he only been toying with her? Dreams or none, was this all some trick to take advantage of her?

 

Rey stepped between him and the fireplace, glaring at him now.

“I will not.” His brow knit slowly and he took a step towards her.

“You and I were drawn together for a reason. If you were given the eggs, then I was meant to find them as well.” Rey held her ground.

“You don’t know that to be true any more than I do. The eggs were given to me, Maz Kanata told me that I was meant to have them--”   
“Maz Kanata?” The sudden sharp edge of his voice stopped her and he leaned forward slightly, his gaze suddenly dangerous. “ _ Maz Kanata  _ gave you these?” Rey eyed him warily.

“...Yes.”

“Here? She’s here?” He demanded, and Rey’s eyes narrowed, suddenly unsure of what information to divulge.

“Why do you ask me this? Do you know this woman?” The look in his eyes made her feel cold and afraid as he towered over her.

“Tell me where she is.” Rey swallowed.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, knowing the ancient woman truly could be anywhere at this hour. He stared her down and she knew he was deciding whether or not to trust her answer, but the fire popped suddenly behind her and he straightened again, still staring down at her imperiously.

“You  _ will _ return with me when we depart for Westeros--”   
“I will  _ not _ \--” She raised her voice, and he silenced her with a hand taking hold of her face.

“I would prefer if you came of your own accord, however if I must use force then I will.” Rey could feel her lip curling as she glared at him, hissing out a breath between clenched teeth. Kylo Ren’s eyes searched her face as he leaned close to her, and his voice softened only slightly. “We were drawn together by something powerful, Rey. You know that like I do.”

“I doubt it was for me to be your  _ prisoner _ ,” she spat, and he almost looked apologetic.

“Then I hope you will change your mind.”

 

He released her and began to stride towards the door of her chambers to leave.

“I will deal with Maz Kanata, and come dawn you will be escorted to the docks by the Knights of Ren to depart with us,” he told her, and Rey had already gone for the chest once he’d turned his back. Whatever he was planning, whatever he intended to do, she was taking these eggs and leaving, right now if she had to. Her hands uncovered the Valyrian steel sword, and one rested on the leather-bound grip.

“I will not leave with you,” she said again, her voice low and firm, and she heard his footfalls stop. “Not you, nor your knights.” Her fingers curled around the grip, and found the sword was heavy in her grasp but she could lift it if she so desired. She did not want this--she was no expert with a sword, had barely handled a blade all her life, but there was something in her that warned her to find a weapon, and here it was. She hefted it from the chest and held it in both hands when she turned to face him, fire gleaming on the blue stones inlaid in the blade. Kylo Ren’s eyes went wide in disbelief.

“ _ How _ …” was all he said, once again staring at her in stunned silence. Rey’s grip tightened and her brow knit.

“I have been a fool,” she said angrily, “Blinded by magic I cannot comprehend, but I will not be any man’s prisoner ever again!” Kylo Ren’s eyes were wide and furious.

“ _ That sword, _ ” he hissed, his voice frighteningly low, “That sword belongs to  _ me _ !” Rey’s jaw tightened.

“Like the dragon eggs, it was given to  _ me _ ,” She growled, “But it will serve much better use to me than they if you think to lay a hand on myself or the eggs.”

 

He’d drawn his flaming sword before she knew it, and the room grew bright around them. Through the red flames, she could see him glaring at her.

“You have no hope of beating me here, Rey. I am offering you the chance to come with me now with no trouble.”

“And yet you have drawn your blade, ser.” His eyes were hard.

“Is that your reply?” Rey took a deep breath, afraid of this man and whatever magic there was that had brought them to one another, afraid of the fact that she did not want to fight him, that there was part of herself that wanted this to end peacefully.

“It is.”

  
  


His first hit nearly knocked her off her feet. She managed to keep her balance and wrenched her blade away, but she still stumbled back and found herself nearly running from him, backing away as he pursued. His blows were hard and heavy, and she could tell he was trying to knock the sword from her hand--as his fiery blade neared her grip again and again, she grew panicked and finally began to swing back at him. He’d caught her arms more than once and she’d hit her head trying to dodge him once already, she could feel blood on her face and her limbs, could taste it in her mouth, knew she had scratches all over herself, but she refused to back down or give up. 

She was not near so strong nor so trained as he was, but she was more agile; she could duck and swing faster than he could, and at least defend herself that way, but when he knocked her backwards into a wall and drove his sword into the curtains near her head, setting them ablaze, she knew she had to get away. The curtains caught flame and aided by the night winds the fire began to spread through the room quickly. Her zorse--her zorse was in the courtyard, if she could get the eggs, she could find her zorse and escape.

Rey ducked under Kylo Ren’s arm and rushed for the windows, whistling into the courtyard beyond for her zorse as smoke began to rise into the night air from behind her. She could hear hoofbeats as she was forced to spin around and knock away Kylo Ren’s blade again, coughing and looking around wildly for where the fireplace was, to try and get to the eggs. She  _ had _ to get them. Something in her was set upon it; she had to keep them with her, she had to keep them safe--through the burning furniture and the haze of smoke, she could see the hearth and the two eggs still resting there. Kylo Ren seemed to notice this, and knocked her sideways, forcing her backwards as he pressed at her blade with his own.

“There is magic at work here, Rey!” he shouted, and for a moment as she looked at him he almost seemed desperate again. “I found you--after years of dreaming, I  _ found you _ \--and now that we’ve been brought together,  _ dragon eggs _ have surfaced! This is fate, Rey, you must believe me!” Rey’s eyes had filled with tears from the smoke, but there was an ache in her chest that she swallowed down as well.

“You seek only to hold me captive--there is a shadow that has its’ hold on you!” A shadow that she feared even in dreams, one that she would not willingly go to. “My fate does not lie in darkness!” Her shout seemed to catch him off-guard, and using this confusion she tried to swing up at his chest--but he moved, moved as if to grab her arm, and in her own surprise she released one hand to try and stop him, to grab his wrist in return, but she missed her mark and her hand closed around the burning blade of his sword, the edge cutting into her palm and her fingers with how hard she closed her grasp. Her eyes widened and she screamed, hurriedly releasing it--only...her skin had not caught flame. Her palm had not blistered, her cuts had not burnt; blood flowed freely down her arm from the wounds, but her skin was otherwise unhurt. Both of them stared in shock at this until Rey grit her teeth and took her sword in both hands, swinging hard at him with a cry, and her blade caught his face. 

 

She could see blood spray up and freckle her sword as he roared in shock and pain, and in that moment she kicked him back with as much strength as she could muster, and he stumbled and fell backwards into a burning table. Rey dashed for the fireplace and dropped her sword beside her as the door to her chambers was thrown open, and in the doorway was Finn, staring in horror at the scene before him.

“Rey!” he bellowed over the blaze, and Rey was on her knees before the fireplace, tears tracking her sooty face as she tried to reach for the eggs.

In the courtyard, the fire had spread to the bushes and some small trees; she could see them burning when she heard her zorse scream and her head snapped to look for it.  _ No-- _ she turned back to the eggs frantically as Finn screamed at her from the doorway again, and for a split-second, everything seemed...slowed.

 

The fire was blazing around her almost blindingly bright. It was labor to breathe, and tears were clouding her eyes, but she was not hurting from the heat itself. She looked at her injured hand again, saw the unburnt skin, and again looked at the eggs on the coals.

She could feel her trousers catch fire as she leaned into the hearth itself and took the eggs into her bloodied arm, the sword held in her free hand.

Her heart felt as if it had stopped beating, even for just a moment. Her clothing had caught flame on her body as she backed up with the eggs in her arms, staring down at them, transfixed. She could not feel the flames. She could not feel the fire as it burnt the fabric away, baring her skin but only licking her flesh as if it were the shells of the dragon eggs in her arms.

 

In the haze and smoke, she turned to try and find the door, but there was a bloodied hand on the black egg, and she recoiled and tried to pull out of its grasp, turning to face Kylo Ren once more.

His face was a ruin of blood on one side, but like her, he was unburnt, standing in the spreading fire as bare as she. Their eyes met, her hand curled protectively around the white egg as his still feebly rested on the black, and she did not  _ understand _ this, how this was possible, how he could still be trying to take the eggs from her even now, how the look in his eyes made her heart clench, made more tears well up in her eyes until hoarsely, he coughed out “ _ Rey _ ,” and she tore away from him with a sob, dashing into the inferno and trying to find a way out.

  
  


Finally, Rey stumbled into the courtyard. The once beautiful gardens were turning to ash around her, and somewhere close she could hear the terrified screams of her zorse still. She rushed towards it as fast as she could, sobbing as her bare feet caught fallen branches and loose stones, her heart pounding in her ears as she struggled to breathe and run and carry what she had in her arms. She had to find her zorse, she had to--it was her only companion, her only friend, her most beloved partner, she had to find it and they could leave, could ride away from this place and never return.

She could hear screaming and shouts around her through the flaming brush. She knew the fire had spread; the winds were whipping the flames up around her and filling the night air with smoke, but up ahead she could see, at last, her zorse. Trapped in a circle of bushes, it shrieked and whinnied fearfully, galloping in a circle to try and escape its confinement as trees began to collapse around it, and Rey raced blindly towards it until she tripped over a fallen lantern. Her ankle had caught, she could barely move her foot now as she lay on the stone pathway, and as she watched in horror, her zorse bucked and reared until it had knocked into and felled a burning tree. She could only scream in anguish along with the dying animal as flames engulfed the rest of the brush around it, her throat raw and her chest heaving.  _ No, no no! _

 

There was a hand on her leg, freeing her ankle from the lantern. A massive figure--she turned and could only see a huge, hulking, hairy man bellowing at her in the smoke and gesturing before hoisting her to her feet by her arm and dragging her through the black fog. She felt dizzy, hazy, tears still flowing down her cheeks as she managed to hold onto the dragon eggs and the sword both.  _ I have lost everything, _ she thought blearily,  _ if I lose these gifts then it will have all been for nothing. _

She was cast out onto the street unceremoniously, and as she turned to thank her savior, he was gone, but she heard a cry nearby and looked up to see Rose come rushing towards her. They were in a dark back alley, and the other girl had gone to her knees to try and help Rey up, was speaking to her but Rey’s vision was blurring and her ears were filled with a ringing sound so loud she could not make any of the words out. Rose was looking around until the two of them were joined by Finn, who stared at Rey in shock and awe and tore off the cloak he wore to wrap around her. He lifted her into his arms and Rey coughed, trying to think, to get them out of here.

“Have to leave,” she choked out, still unable to hear much herself. “Out of Qarth. The Red Waste. The only way.”

 

 

She began to drift in and out of consciousness.

Finn carried her, and she could see them running through darkened streets. Could see stars overhead. Could see balconies, banners. Finally, she saw the gates of the city as they passed beneath them and the three of them spilled out into the desert.

“Run,” she managed to whisper, the only thing she could think.  _ We must get away from this place, we must get away from him.  _ Her arms tightened around the dragon eggs, the sword tucked in Finn’s belt now.  _ I will keep them safe; no matter the reason, they are mine to protect now! _   
“Where? Where do we go?” She could hear Rose, breathless and afraid beside them.

“Keep running,” she croaked, “Rocks beyond the Garden of Bones, we can sleep when dawn comes…”

  
  


“She didn’t burn,” she could hear Finn telling Rose in a hushed tone, “I saw her, Rose, she was in that burning room, I saw her crawl into a fireplace, and somehow she  _ didn’t burn _ .” She could hear Rose reply, but could not make out the words.

  
  


They’d reached the rock outcroppings as the sky began to lighten, but they had not stopped just yet until they were ultimately forced to.

Something had happened, something was  _ moving _ in her arms under the cloak--she let out a strangled cry, and Finn skidded to a stop and the three of them ducked into the nearest cave-like formation, Finn going to his knees to set Rey down. Rey flung the cloak open, not caring for dignity or decorum--in her lap, the dragon eggs had begun to shudder and  _ crack _ as she, Finn, and Rose stared.

“What--what  _ are _ those?!” Finn gasped, and Rose’s voice came after, hushed and disbelieving.

“Those...can’t be…”

 

Rey’s eyes were only for the eggs. Covered in blood, the shells began to shake until there was a loud cracking sound, and the black had split open, the shell suddenly beginning to crumble around the original fissure as the white egg beside it did the same.  _ Blood _ , Rey thought, and even her own mind seemed faraway,  _ My blood and his. _

Rey’s breathing became shallow as the eggshells fell away, and in her bloodied, soot-covered and weary arms, two tiny creatures clawed at her bare skin, struggling to find their legs and grappling for purchase.

 

In the first light of day, for the first time in over three hundred years, there was the screech of dragons in the world again--the most triumphant music Rey had ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys--i want to give a big thank you to everyone that's stayed with A Veil of Smoke.♡  
> it means SO much to me; i know it's been a long time in the making, but finally we've reached the end. AVOS in particular is special to me not only because of the work that went into it, but because this is the first fic i've ever finished. c:
> 
> yes, this fic was meant to be part of a larger story. 'A Song of Stars and Shadow' is meant to be a trilogy, and I would love to get to share the next two volumes with you all, but i'm not sure when that will be. if you're reading this and you do want to read more of this story, please let me know. i would love to hear from you.
> 
> thank you so much to everyone that's read and commented, and to all of you that have bookmarked and given this kudos. thank you guys so, _so_ much. ♡♡♡
> 
> as always, you can find me on social media here:
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/binarysvnrise)
> 
> [tumblr](https://shierak-inavva.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/binarysvnrise)


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